


The Difference

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221 b Baker Street, AU: Different First Meeting, Alcoholism, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Chance Meeting, Conflict, Confrontation, Drama, Exams, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Responsibility, First Date, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Happy, Honesty, Jealousy, Jim being Jim, John's family, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Moving Out, Party, Past Abuse, Random Strangers - Freeform, Research Project, Special Day, Studying, Teenlock, Unilock, Work, cinema, collegelock, fight, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 70,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting leads to a friendship with leads both John and Sherlock to accept that their families and their pasts can't control what their future together should be.<br/></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <br/>
    <b>Here's the whole story. Thank you to those who came back each week. Let us know what you think!<br/></b>
    <br/>
  </p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Random Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> We hope there will be something here for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments -- they mean so much.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock had been sitting in the cafe all afternoon. He was thinking. He had been trying to solve a case. Well, kind of. A kid in his residence hall had asked him to find out if his girlfriend was seeing someone else. So Sherlock had followed her all week, before determining she didn't even know the kid at all. So he abandoned that project and decided to focus on why the guy had lied in the first place. What was he trying to hide? Sherlock had investigated his medical background, grade history, and complete social media profile before realising that he actually didn't care about any of this at all.

He was bored. Being at college was better than being at home, but it wasn't what he'd thought it was be. It was boring.

He'd just got another cup of tea when he noticed that the cafe was now full. Of students. This annoyed him greatly. Since coming here, he hadn't made a single friend. Friends didn't interest him anymore. Mysteries interested him, puzzles interested him. And now after wasting so much time on a non-existent student-based case, Sherlock decided that every single person on this campus was his enemy, including the kid in his residence hall who'd probably be hanging around Sherlock's door, waiting for a report. He needed to kill a bit more time. He held his mug up to his face and tried to make them all go away and when that didn't happen, he went away inside his head until he couldn't hear any of them anymore. 

John was running late. Well, his class had run late and now as a consequence, he was running late. The best place to study for long hours was the cafe on campus, but you had to be there at a certain time for a good table. It was well past the perfect time so now John broke into a run, hoping there might be at least a little space free.

There wasn't. He pulled open the door and groaned when he saw that it was packed. Every table had at least three people, with their books and cups spread all over, clearly not inviting anyone to sit. He joined the queue anyway and kept looking around, willing someone to leave. It didn't seem likely, but then he saw it.

There was one table that, for one moment, he thought was empty. After paying for his tea and looking more closely, he saw that it wasn't. There was one boy sitting there with no books or papers or anything. John recognised him from his chemistry class and he hated to admit it, but he knew why no one had sat next to him. In class he was very outspoken and often a bit mean. But John had an exam in biology, and that was more threatening to him than this boy. 

He walked over to the table and set his cup down, putting his bag down near the chair. "Do you mind?" he asked the boy.

Sherlock opened his eyes. There was someone standing by the table, someone he was pretty sure just said some words aloud, most likely to him.

"Are you talking to me?" Sherlock said.

John nodded, bracing himself a bit. "I was wondering if I could sit down. I'll be quiet. I just need to study," he said.

"I don't care," Sherlock said.

John sighed with slight relief and took the empty seat, pulling out his book and his notes. He took a sip of tea and smiled lightly. "Thanks," he said, going right into his reading.

"I meant I don't care if you need to study," Sherlock said. "Can't you sit somewhere else?" he added, despite looking around and seeing literally not another single seat in the place.

John looked up and then around. "There isn't another table. Please? I'm not bothering you," he insisted.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, I guess I don't, but I'm just sitting here quietly," John said. This wasn't helping his studying -- he hadn't sat down to chat. But then again if the boy got annoyed enough, would he leave the table for John? Or would he shout and humiliate him until John left instead?

Sherlock looked at the guy. He felt like he recognised him but then remembered that he had decided that other students were his enemies so he deliberately didn't try to place him. Instead he memorised his face -- in case one day he needed to recall it for some reason. Then he said, "What are you studying?" even though he still didn't really care.

John stared at him back as he watched the guy studying his face so intently. It made John a bit nervous, like when a cat stared at you and you didn't know if it was going to attack or not. But then he spoke and it was nice enough so John relaxed a bit. "Biology. I have an exam next Monday," he said.

"Biology is easy," Sherlock said. "There's really no need for you to study."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," John said. He knew how smart this boy was as he was always trying to correct their professor in chemistry. "I really need to study, though."

"Are you asking me to help you?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't sure why he couldn't stop saying words.

John wondered if the boy kept talking so that he would annoy John into leaving. He tried to read his face, but he couldn't tell. "You don't have to do that. I understand it. I just need to remember all of it."

"Are you sure? I mean it's easy if you're smart . . . you might be stupid so if it's confusing you, I could try to explain," Sherlock said, looking over at the guy's notes.

John pulled his papers closer and looked up annoyed. "I am not stupid!" He took a deep breath and organised them a little better. "I know I sat down at your table, but we don't have to chit chat."

"I have no interest in chit chat," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes for a moment and then said, "Just go on with your studying. I'm leaving shortly anyway."

John didn't reply as he pulled his papers close and went back to his studying. He mumbled the words -- saying them out loud always helped him remember better. He read along quietly, sipping at his tea.

Sherlock came out of his mind palace and looked over. "I thought you didn't want chit chat," he said.

"I don't," John said. "I'm studying."

"No, you're not," Sherlock said, getting a bit annoyed. He'd been right to hate students. "You're talking. I only agreed to let you sit down because you said you needed to study and I had presumed that meant no talking."

"I'm not -- it's just how I study. I remember better," John explained.

"That's a stupid way to study. I thought you said you weren't stupid."

"You're welcome to leave," John snapped.

"I was here first," Sherlock said. "I was just minding my own business until you showed up and disrupted everything."

John ignored him and kept studying, murmuring facts to himself.

"That's wrong," Sherlock said. "What you just said is wrong. If you're trying to learn it right, you're doing it wrong."

John lifted the notes higher to hide his face but he realised, annoyingly, that the boy was right. John had copied it wrong. He corrected it and started again.

"What time is your test?" Sherlock asked.

"It's on Monday at noon," John said. Why was he answering? He was studying. He dipped lower behind his notes.

"You've got plenty of time," Sherlock said. "Don't you have some girls to chase or something?"

John peeked up over his notes. "No, I don't," he said and he ducked back down. "I just want to study for my exam."

"So you said," Sherlock replied. "Why do you keep talking and disturbing me then?"  
  
John ignored him and went back to his notes, still murmuring softly and reminding himself not to answer back, no matter what.

Sherlock tried to close his eyes and go back into his mind again, but the little noises this guy was making were really annoying him. He opened his eyes again. He strained his neck a bit to look at the guy's notes. "What's the specific class you're in anyway?" he asked, reading upside down.

Why was this guy so insistent on talking when he was just yelling at John for talking? John very slightly tilted the notes so this boy couldn't see.

"Rude," Sherlock said. "I'm quite good in the sciences, I could've helped." He got up and got another tea and returned to the table. "If you're not going to get something to eat or drink, what's the point of being here?"

Silently, John lifted his cup which admittedly was now empty. He glanced at it and stood, leaving his things at the table while he grabbed another tea. When he sat down, he lifted that one up and took a big drink and then went back to his notes.

When the kid left, Sherlock reached over and grabbed a page of his notes. When he returned, Sherlock said, "Your handwriting is atrocious. You should keep better notes."

"Give me that," John said, finally breaking his silent streak. "I can read it so it's just fine."

"I'm quite good at the sciences, as I said," Sherlock repeated. "I'd have thought you'd appreciate advice from an expert." He took a drink.

"I don't need advice, I need to study. Give me my paper!" John reached out for it, stretching over the table a bit.

"Is this why you don't have a girlfriend? Because you're so horrible?" Sherlock asked.

John actually blanched for a second before setting his face. "Can I have my paper back please?"

"You can -- you just had to ask," Sherlock replied. He finished his tea and then checked his watch. It was probably safe to head back now. "Well," he said, standing up. "It's been completely charming. I hope you do terribly on your exam and end up dropping out, turning to a life of crime and ending up in prison to live out the rest of your days." He turned and tried to push past some people to get out.

John rolled his eyes and spread his papers out to take up the whole desk. "Go away," he called.

"Happily," Sherlock said. He headed out and back to the residence hall. He tried to avoid looking at any other students. He'd had enough of them for today.


	2. Not Talking To Each Other Again

John stayed at the cafe studying until the rush was over, and the sudden silence drew him out of his thoughts. He packed up his school things and headed for home, thinking about that boy who'd been sitting with him. He had never met anyone so obnoxious. No wonder no one liked him. Of course, John had been planning on annoying him away from the table so maybe that boy had the same idea and was just better at it than John was. It didn't matter. Tomorrow he would be there early enough to avoid those troubles.  
  
When he arrived home he heard Harry shouting at their mum again, and he hurried up to his room before anyone saw him. John never wanted to get involved in these arguments, and Harry took that as a sign that he was choosing their mum's side. This was why he studied on campus. When he heard the inevitable slam of the front door, John sat up and waited until he could tell his mother had gone to bed.  
  
He crept down to the kitchen and quickly ate some dinner, not even bothering to heat it up. Afterwards he got ready for bed, set his alarm, and let himself drift off. In the morning he showered at record speed and hurried out of the house. Harry was only just coming home,  
and she nudged John hard enough to almost knock him over as they passed each other on the walk. He was thinking about his mum all day and hoping that Harry had gone straight to bed instead of shouting at her again.  
  
His distraction cost him. He wasn't paying close enough attention, and when his class was over, he wasted more time packing his things away. He hurried for the cafe. He really hoped that boy had found a different place today.

Sherlock had spent the morning meeting with one of his professors. He had offered Sherlock a research position for the summer. Sherlock was not sure if he should take. He didn't hate the professor -- which was a bit unusual -- but the work wasn't as interesting as he'd hoped it would be. Collecting data but for what? Sherlock liked work that had a purpose, that solved something.

Regardless, it'd been a better morning than usual as so far today he'd avoided any interactions with his fellow students. Which is why he hadn't been thinking about students when he'd made his way to the cafe. He was waiting for his tea when a group of them came in, and he almost took off. Instead he took his cup to the back of the room, choosing a small table, and sitting down in the chair with his back to the rest of them. If he just blocked out their noise, he could enjoy his tea in peace. 

By the time John burst into the cafe, it was packed again. Didn't these people have anywhere else to go? He looked around as he moved through the line and saw nothing open. He was just getting ready to give up when he saw him at the back.

Again no one was sharing his table despite how crowded the cafe was becoming. He sighed in defeat and headed over to the table, hovering awkwardly. He thought about the impossibility of studying at home and cleared his throat. "Hello."

Sherlock looked over at the person who'd said hello. It was the student from yesterday. The annoying one who was supposed to be studying biology but instead seemed bent on just being irritating. "Go away," he told the kid.

"No," John said, sitting down in the available chair. "This is the only table partly open."

"Oh god," Sherlock said, looking around and seeing that he was right. "So I have to sacrifice a little tea break because you can't study at your own home? You do have a home, I presume. Go study there."

John hesitated for just half a second. "I like studying here," he said, opening his notes. "If you shut up, I won't talk to you, and you can still enjoy your break."

"I was sitting quite quietly before you arrived and started jabbering away," Sherlock said, watching the boy sit down. "Haven't mastered biology yet, eh?"

"I haven't had my exam yet," John said. He thought about when he and Harry were very young and she had made him play 'the quiet game'. "We start now. Next one to talk loses," John said, lifting his notes to read. He mouthed the words but didn't make a sound.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took another sip of tea. Then he tried to go away into his head, but he couldn't because of this guy. He reached into his pocket and took out a piece of paper. On it he wrote _I know you haven't had your exam yet_ and then held it up. For some reason the assumption that Sherlock hadn't been paying attention yesterday really annoyed him.

Something out of the corner of his eye made John look up and he saw the note the boy was holding. He reached out and took it, scribbling quickly. _This counts as talking, by the way._ He slid it back across the table and read his notes.  
  
Sherlock scribbled _No, it does not._

John wrote back, _Does too because you're once again preventing me from studying._ Then he lifted his notes in front of his face like he'd done yesterday, determined not to answer any more. If he engaged in this, it would never stop.

Oh god, Sherlock thought. Why was this kid bothering him so much? He started fiddling with his mug, turning it around on the table. It made a pleasantly hypnotic noise.

John sighed loudly and looked over his paper. "Do you mind?" he asked. He was being good and keeping his murmuring under control and now this.

"You lose," Sherlock said.

John opened his mouth but was caught in surprise. "You had already lost!"

"Did not," Sherlock said. "Those are the first words I've spoken since you started your stupid game. So what do I win?"

"Nothing because you lost," John insisted. This was almost worse than studying at his house. Well, no it wasn't, but was it really that much to ask for some quiet? "Please, can I just study my notes?"

"I'd like nothing more," Sherlock said. "You're the one who wanted to play the game." He pulled out his laptop. "Look, I've got some work to do myself so if you wouldn't mind finally shutting up, I'll do my work and you do yours, okay?"

John rolled his eyes. "That's what I've been saying," he grumbled, shifting and going back to his notes.

Sherlock stared at his laptop. There was an email from his brother but he didn't bother clicking on it. Instead he did some research on the professor he'd met with. He was smart, had a good research record -- Sherlock was impressed with his publications. But then he saw that the guy had a Facebook page, which annoyed him. He went to it and saw quite a few holiday snaps, all with different women. That seemed unusual. "What are you up to?" he muttered aloud, as he clicked through them.

"I'm still studying," John said, not looking up.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You asked what I was up to. I'm studying," John said. "Just like I was five minutes ago."

"I wasn't talking to you, I was working," Sherlock said. He looked over at him. "That's how I work -- I mutter to myself -- annoying, isn't it? Well, that's the way it is so if you're going to sit here, you'll have to get used to it. Unless you'd prefer to leave, of course."

John stared at him for a moment before going back to his notes. This time he didn't work at holding back his muttering, reading his notes out loud.

Sherlock clicked through more of the photos and then looked at the professor's friend list. There seemed to be a lot of students. This was worrying. "Can I ask you something?" he said to the kid.

John's words broke off and took a breath before looking up. "What is it?"

"You strike me as someone who has a Facebook page," Sherlock said. He meant it as an insult but wasn't sure the guy would realise. "Are you 'friends' with professors?"

"I don't have a Facebook page and if I did I wouldn't add my professors. It's too much trouble," John said.

"And what would you think of a professor who was 'friends' with students?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged. "It's a bit weird. Bordering on inappropriate if it's too involved."

"That's what I thought," Sherlock said. "Go back to your studying now -- I'm not trying to start a conversation or anything."

John rolled his eyes and did go back to his studying, sipping at his now cold tea. But after a moment he realised he couldn't focus. "Why were you asking anyway?"

"No reason," Sherlock said. "Stop bothering me."

"You're bothering me," John said, going back to his notes.

Sherlock looked over at the guy, who had spread out the notes with that messy handwriting over most of the table. "Your system is ridiculous," he said and then turned his attention back to the laptop.

"You're ridiculous," John said.

Sherlock did a little more investigating. He knew his brother could probably help determine if this professor was dodgy or not, but the last thing Sherlock wanted was his brother involved in his life. Yet if he didn't take this job, he'd be forced to move home for the summer where Mycroft would have full access to his business. He reluctantly sent his bother an email asking him for some background on the professor. Even though at least fifteen minutes had passed, he looked up at the kid and said, "I am not." He picked up his mug but it was empty. "I need more tea," he said standing up. "I guess I could get you one if you want."

John looked up at the offer and was pleasantly surprised. But did he want to accept a favour if it was going to turn into a problem? "That's okay. Thank you," he said, going back to his notes. He knew his cup was empty and that, in a bit, he'd have to get up for tea anyway, but he thought it'd be better to keep their interactions to a minimum. 

Sherlock turned to move up to the counter. And _that_ is why students are idiots. That guy had no idea that Sherlock's little offer was actually his greatest act of generosity in a month. And he'd turned it down. Fine. That was fine. Sherlock took his fresh cup back to the table and got back on his laptop.

Mycroft had responded, basically telling Sherlock to accept the position. Sherlock knew the motivation behind his brother's response. Mycroft just wanted Sherlock to feel useless. He didn't care if the work was worthy of Sherlock's time or if it'd bring any benefit to him or anyone else.

Sherlock copied the link to the Facebook photos and pasted it in a reply. He looked over at biology boy, who was still quietly mumbling to himself. For a moment, Sherlock wished he had this kid's life -- with a normal family with normal interactions. All this kid had to worry about was a stupid biology exam. It must be so easy being him.

Sherlock's phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him. He pulled it out and read Mycroft's reply.

_He's not asking you to go on holiday with him. Just do it. MH_

_Fuck off. SH_

He put his phone back in his pocket and shut the laptop.

John stopped reading for a bit as he tried to decide if he was willing to get up for more tea. He tapped his foot and tried to imagine what this boy would say. He watched him immersed in his work -- or whatever that was with the professor questions -- and wondered why he spent all of his time here at the cafe. He wondered if things weren't so good at his home either. Then he stood and moved to the counter quickly to get his tea, grabbing a croissant as well so he could pretend he was actually hungry and since he was up there . . . he didn't know why he cared so much about seeming impolite to a guy who'd been nothing but rude to him. He went back to the table and folded away his notes for the moment so he could eat, tearing pieces off slowly.

Sherlock watched the guy leave and then return. When he put away his notes, Sherlock asked, "Are you leaving then?"

"No. I am just taking a small break," John said. "I got hungry."

"Why don't you go somewhere for dinner then? Do you live on campus? Or are you homeless -- is that why you're always here?" Sherlock asked. 

"I am not homeless," John said. "I just like it here at the cafe." He avoided revealing any more information. He didn't want this boy knowing what was going on in his life. 

"Why? It's full of . . . idiots," Sherlock said. "Unless you're also an idiot . . ." He made a little smile. "I know you're not -- you're obviously trying to get good grades even though you've got bad handwriting. Just . . . don't you think you'd be better off studying alone somewhere? Do you live in a residence hall -- is that why you're here?"

"I live at home," John said. His scholarship covered most of his fees, but it wasn't enough for room and board as well. As he lived close, he figured there was no need to pay it. He started taking bigger bites of his croissant, trying to get back to studying so they could stop talking about this.

"To be honest, I live on campus and the halls are equally loud," Sherlock said. "What about the library? Well, you can't eat in the library and obviously you like to eat," he said, nodding down to the crumbs on his shirt.

John brushed the crumbs off as his cheeks warmed. "I'm just trying to get back to my notes," he said.

"Right," Sherlock said, standing up. "Well, I think I'll leave you to it. I take back what I said yesterday -- I hope you do pass your test."

"Thanks," John said, watching the boy leave. He realised just then that he should probably ask his name, but he was too far away now. He studied for another couple hours before he started packing up.

"How do you get anything done sitting with him?"

John looked up and saw one of the boys from their chemistry class waiting for his order. He glanced at the table and then back up. "It's not bad," he said. "We just quietly work."

"Sherlock doesn't do anything quietly," the boy said. "He's a prick."

An unexplainable anger flared in John's chest, and suddenly he felt very defensive. "He's really smart and he's improved my studying."

The boy looked surprised by John's little outburst, but John walked off before anything else was said. Only John was allowed to be annoyed with Sherlock.


	3. Something Different

The next day Sherlock got an email from the professor. He still wasn't sure about this -- he sensed something was off and Sherlock had learned to trust his senses. Then again, he'd thought that biology boy was an idiot and maybe he'd been wrong about that. Or maybe not. He hadn't decided yet and then remembered it didn't matter.

The professor wanted Sherlock to meet the other student he was hoping to hire. This made him even more suspicious since another student hadn't been mentioned yesterday. In fact, Sherlock remembered making it quite clear he didn't get on with other people his age, well, even with other people in general. What was this professor doing?

Sherlock lay down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe the more important question was what was _he_ doing? Why was he turning this whole thing into some mystery, a case he had to solve? Maybe he should just do as Mycroft said and take the position. Then he could earn some money and get his own place so he could move out of the stupid residence hall. Besides there were fewer students around in summer, and the other option was going home and living in perpetual humiliation under his brother's watch.

He got up and showered and dressed. They were supposed to be meeting at the cafe, and he wondered if biology boy would be there. What would it matter? What did any of this matter? He shook his head to try to rid himself of this mood. He arrived early and sat in his usual seat.

Professor Ellis came in, walking with another guy. They were kind of laughing as they came through the door, but Sherlock couldn't tell if either of them really meant it.

"Sherlock," Ellis said as he came over. "This is Jim. Jim, Sherlock."  
  
Jim reached over and shook Sherlock's hand. "I'll get us something to drink," he said to Ellis and went up to the counter. Ellis sat down.

"I hope you're still keen," he said to Sherlock. "Jim's clever -- almost as clever as you, though don't tell him I said that. I know I could trust you both to complete the project while I'm gone."  
  
"Where will you be?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm going abroad," Ellis said. "Research," he added and winked. That bothered Sherlock.

Jim returned with a pot of tea. He poured two cups and then offered to top up Sherlock's. "So is this happening or what?" he asked.

"Sherlock?" Ellis asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Sherlock said even though doing so made his stomach hurt a little.

"Good," Jim said. "I've seen some of your work."  
  
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"I showed him your last two papers," Ellis said. "I was bragging about you."  
  
Sherlock didn't like that either. In fact, he thought it might be illegal but he decided not to mention it. "When do we start?" he asked.

"He's keen," Jim said, smiling at Ellis.

Sherlock never wanted to hear the word keen again.

"When term's over," Ellis said. "I don't want to keep either of you from your studies or whatever else you get up to."  
  
Jim laughed and Sherlock could tell he was faking it.

"Right," Sherlock said and took a long sip of tea.

John was exhausted. Harry had come home late last night, and their mum had waited up for her. They were shouting for a long time, and John had struggled getting to sleep. He walked around in a sort of haze all day and what he realised he needed was a strong cup of coffee.

His class let out on time so he made his way to the cafe comfortably, knowing he could beat the rush and get a table. When he walked in and got in line, he looked around for his friend. Maybe he'd sit at Sherlock’s table anyway just to annoy him. He smiled and caught the dark curls. When he looked closely, he paused. He was sitting with someone else today.

John, already heading for his table, changed his course awkwardly and sat at an empty table to his right. He pulled out his own notes and started to study.

A few minutes later he glanced up but they were still chatting. He caught the boy’s eye and smiled, but he didn't really acknowledge him. He turned back to his notes, scolding himself. Maybe that was the professor Sherlock had asked questions about. Who was the other guy? Why did he even care?

John tried to get back to studying. He sipped at his coffee and read over his notes, a new part he hadn't been working on yet. That was his system: isolate each part and really learn it. He wondered if Sherlock would think that was stupid. John resisted glancing back. It was no use. He couldn't focus.

Cursing Sherlock and his stupid table, John packed up his things and left the cafe. Maybe he could stop at the park. It was a nice enough day and he really, really didn't want to go home. As he walked he turned away from his house and headed towards the park. It was much easier to study here.

Sherlock was really regretting his decision -- Jim and Professor Ellis were no longer talking about the project but something else, and neither had realised that Sherlock hadn't said anything for close to fifteen minutes. He glanced up and saw the biology student, and he realised he wished he were sitting with him instead. He watched him sit down but he didn't stay long. When he left, Sherlock said he had to go as well. Jim said he'd be in touch, and Sherlock assumed Professor Ellis had probably already given him his number and email so he just took off, trying to catch up with the guy.

He followed him to the park where he just sat down and studied. Then Sherlock realised what he was doing -- making a mystery out of nothing -- and he turned around and went back to his room.


	4. Harry Leaves

That night John had dinner with both his mum and sister. He has no choice as he was home earlier than normal. His mum tried to make forced conversation, and John tried to keep it going. Harry was sulking, mumbling under her breath and not joining in.

Later on, someone knocked at their door. He walked out of his room enough to see who it was from the stairs and saw a woman at the door, asking for Harry. And then Harry was shoving past him with a big suitcase. His mum was immediately trying to stop her from going, and it escalated into a huge fight. Harry was shouting about how she loved Clara and she was going to live with her. His mum shouted about how Harry didn't have any schooling or training or even a job and that she couldn't live on her own. That's when Harry got nasty and shouted about how she never loved Harry anyway. John knew she was drunk and he wondered if she had alcohol hidden in her room. After that Harry was gone.

John went down and sat with him mum while she cried on the sofa. It was a long time before she fell asleep, and John covered her with a blanket. He went up to bed and tossed and turned all night, not that there was much left of it.

He slept too late and missed his first class, barely making it into the door for chemistry and sitting all the way in the back on his own.

The first thought Sherlock had when he woke up was how he was going to get out of the research thing. Yes, he wanted the money and no, he didn't want to have to spend the summer with his brother, but there was something that wasn't right. He thought about skipping chemistry to avoid bumping into Professor Ellis, but he didn't want to miss class. Maybe he could speak with someone else -- maybe someone else had work he could do.

He made it to class and headed to the back. That's when he saw the biology guy. Was he in this class? Sherlock had no idea because he'd never really paid attention to the students. He realised he'd made a little smile at him and took a seat at the end of the row.

John glanced at his café friend but focused on his notes. He was so tired. He tried to write as the teacher spoke but his lids were so heavy. He propped his head in his hand and, as hard as he tried not to, he fell asleep.

Sherlock listened to the lecture until he noticed that the guy a few seats down had fallen asleep. He smiled a little and then turned his focus back to the front. When the class was almost over, he looked back and noticed the kid was still asleep. He slid down the table. "Hey," he said. "Wake up."

John started and dropped his pen, looking around the emptying room and then to his notes with exactly four and a half words. He swore softly and then looked at the boy. "I didn't . . . um, thanks," he said, bending to get his pen.

"Is something wrong with you?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John said a bit testily. First he was stupid and now this. He quickly packed his things and stood. He was going to be late for his next class now, too.

"Hey," Sherlock called. "What's your name?"

John was so surprised by the question that he couldn't help answer. "John," he said as he hurried out of the door. As he thought he was late to his next class and he grabbed the first seat he saw which was in the front. This was bad as well since, once he was settled, he started feeling sleepy again.

"Are you so bored?"

The angry voice startled John and several people laughed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, embarrassed.

"Perhaps you should go if you don't want to pay attention."

John shook his head but then saw she wasn't kidding. He grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room, leaning against the wall. Nothing was going right today. He skipped his last class completely and went to the cafe, taking a back corner table and leaning on his hand again, watching the steam rising from his tea.

After his next class, Sherlock headed to the cafe. He saw John in the corner. He walked over and said, "Come on, get your stuff, we're going."

John looked up and furrowed his brows lightly. "Going where?" he asked. 

"Somewhere where it's . . . quieter," Sherlock said. "Come on."

John looked around the cafe -- it was full but not over crowded like usual. Still, his curiosity got the best of him and he grabbed his things, following Sherlock. "Where is that?"

"Just follow me," he said. He led him to the park where John had been studying yesterday. They sat down at a table. "All right," he asked. "What's going on?"  
  
John looked around as Sherlock led him into the park and, oddly enough, to the same table where he'd sat yesterday. When Sherlock spoke, John blinked at him, shaking his head. "Nothing. I just slept badly," he lied.

"You're lying," Sherlock said. "But that's fine. You don't have to tell me. Work here instead. It's quieter. I'll . . . just sit here."

John blinked at him for a moment before looking down and picking at the paint chips on the table. "I don't really talk about . . . I mean . . . it's family stuff," he said.

"Just because you don't doesn't mean you can't," Sherlock said. "But you don't have to."

"Why are you asking? Why do you want to know? Why do you . . . care?" John asked a bit exasperated. No one ever had before. Even the boys he played rugby with never bothered to find out why he was moody or distracted sometimes.

Sherlock thought about it. Did he care or was he just trying to turn this into a case? He wasn't entirely sure. It felt different. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "Just . . . study, I guess."

"And you're just going to sit here with me?" John asked, watching him closely.

"For a bit, yeah," Sherlock said. "Unless you want me to go."

John pulled out his notes, leaning over them to try to focus. He mumbled like normal but it was odd, knowing Sherlock was sitting here with because he wanted to be here. John glanced up at him, biting his lip before looking at his notes again. This time when he started mumbling it wasn't biology. It was about what was happening at home.

He started with the fighting and the reason he preferred studying at the cafe. Then he talked about how Harry had come out and then started drinking. She thought the reason their mom was always upset was because she was gay when really it was all of the drinking. And then he told Sherlock about how she had moved out last night and how he had stayed up too late with his crying mum. 

He let his voice trail off and he gazed at the paper, his eyes not moving, and his body tense as he waited to see what Sherlock was going to think about all of that. It was so good to finally tell someone, and he realised it was easier that it was someone he didn't know very well. If he thought it was stupid or too much and he left, there was really no loss.

"I told you," Sherlock said.

"Told me what?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock now.

"I told you something was wrong," Sherlock said. "You should listen to me. I'm usually right." He traced a line in the table's wood with his fingertip. "You have a lot to deal with," he said.

"Oh," John said and he couldn't help a small smile. "Well, yes. You're right about that, too."

“That's why I thought quiet would be better," Sherlock said. "Should we stop talking or is there more you'd like to say?"  
  
John shrugged. "I've never talked about it before and I don't . . . I mean no, I'm done," he said. He shifted and looked up at him again. "It's odd I said all that because I hardly know you," he said.

"Oh, I don't know," Sherlock said. "I think we know each other quite well. I know you've got messy handwriting and care about your grades. You know I'm unpleasant but always right. In fact, in many ways, I think we know each other better than anyone else."

"I suppose," John said, leaning back a bit. "So . . . how did your project go, then?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "I got offered a job which I accepted and I think I regret accepting it." He was surprised how honestly he'd answered.

"How come?" John asked, leaning a bit forward again.

"That's the problem -- I don't know," Sherlock said. "Something feels off and there must be a reason for it. Everything has a reason. But I can't see the reason yet and so I'm not sure if I should change my mind or not. It's not a big deal. It will make itself clear at some point, I suppose."  
  
"Well, I'm sure you're going to figure it out," John said. "Does it have to do with the professor you were asking me about? The one at the cafe?"

"It does," Sherlock said. He looked down at the table again.

John looked down as well for just a second. "You don't have to tell me. Um . . . what are you studying?"

"Chemistry right now," Sherlock said. "I'm good at the sciences, as you know." He smiled a little.

"I remember that," John nodded, smiling at him. "I want to be a doctor."

"So biology's quite important," Sherlock said. "You should be studying. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

John shook his head.

Sherlock looked at his watch. "I'll stay for twenty minutes," he said, for no reason in particular -- he had nowhere to go but also no real reason to stay. "Get ready. Study -- go."

"Oh," John said, quickly finding his place in his notes. "Okay, don't shout," he said, starting his usually mumbling as he read through them. 

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. He sat still for a while. It was kind of nice -- it was quiet except for the soft sound of John's little mumbles and it was kind of nice.

John kept looking up at Sherlock, just quick glances between sentences and terms, wondering what he was thinking about with his eyes closed again.

Eventually Sherlock looked at his watch. "It's been twenty minutes," he said. "You need to refuel. Should we go get something to eat?" It was a strange offer -- food was never much of an interest of Sherlock's. But students had never been an interest either. And suddenly this one was.

"I thought you had to go," John said, already packing up.

"No, it's just that there's only so much a normal brain can take before it needs a break, and I'm guessing your brain is relatively normal," Sherlock said. "Otherwise, you're using time but not getting any benefit from it." He stood up. "We don't need to get food. I don't know why I said it."

"I'm hungry," John admitted.

"All right, but let's not go back on campus. There's a little place I know where they hardly get any students. Italian okay?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Yes, that's fine," he said. He shouldered his bag. "You didn't really help, you know," he teased.

"I wasn't trying to help," Sherlock said. "You're obviously smart enough on your own."

John smiled and shoved his arm. "Shut up," he grinned.

They walked quietly until they got to Angelo's. Sherlock held the door open for John and Angelo came to the front to greet him. "Who's your friend?" Angelo asked.

"It's John," Sherlock said and sat down. Angelo handed them menus and then went to get some water. Sherlock looked up at John. "I don't know your surname," he said.

"Watson," John answered. "Um, you never told me yours, by the way." He knew Sherlock's first name already, but it seemed odd to admit that without ever having asked for it.

"It's Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said.  
  
John smiled. "So what's good here?"

"Um, I don't know," Sherlock said. "I don't care that much about food. Usually he just brings me whatever he's got extra of, I guess. I'm sure it's all good." He swallowed awkwardly. He felt a strange mix of comfort and discomfort -- he could handle one or the other but this mix was unusual.

"Well, I think I'll have the lasagna, then. That's my favourite," he smiled.

Sherlock ordered for them both. "I don't know what to talk about," he said when Angelo walked away.

"Oh. Um, tell me about yourself," John suggested. He was curious about this boy, especially now that'd he'd revealed so much to him.

"Um, I'm a student . . . and I'm smart," Sherlock said. "I think that's about it."

John smiled and shook his head. "I know all of that," he said.

"I don't know what else to say," Sherlock said. "As you know, I usually find talking to people annoying."

"You live on campus?" John asked.

"I do. Also annoying," Sherlock said. "Maybe you've noticed -- I find a lot of things annoying."

John nodded. "I have noticed. Is it always loud where you live?"

"Yes, it's loud and full of students who seem to always be . . . talking to each other," Sherlock said. "It's incredibly annoying."

John smiled. "When they gave me a tour they said the best way to make friends was to live on campus."

"Yeah, well, they were lying," Sherlock said. "I mean, maybe, you like that kind of stuff."

John shrugged. "I played a sport so it was the same, I suppose."

"Okay," Sherlock said. He didn't know what else to say. He scanned his brain and then said, "Where's your father?"

John looked down at the table and mixed his food a bit. "He was in the army," he said. "It happened a long time ago."

"Is he dead or did he just leave your mother?"

John frowned and looked up a bit sharply. "He was killed in action." John had thought that would have been obvious or else why mention the army? He picked at his food again, trying to let the moment pass.

"Sorry," Sherlock said. His face went hot, and he fiddled with his food. "Both my parents are alive," he said but then realised that made things even worse.

"Well, you're very lucky." John knew Sherlock didn't mean it in a mean, gloating way. Talking about the death of loved ones made everything awkward and no one knew what to say, and he was starting to sense that Sherlock was particularly bad at knowing what to say. "So, now it's just me and my mum," he said after a bit.

"Do you think you'll live there forever?"

"Until I graduate, I think. It'll be hard moving into my own place," John said. "What about you? After school?"

"No plans," Sherlock said. "You should think about moving out -- it's better than being at home, well, it will be once I can get my own place." 

"I'd feel bad about my mum," John admitted. "You can afford your own place?"

"Hopefully . . . if I take this job," Sherlock said. "Your mum would be okay and besides, you wouldn't be that far away." He ate a little bit of food. "Is your food all right?"

"Yes, it's great," John smiled. "Well, I don't have to decide right now," he added.

"No, you're right, you don't," Sherlock said. "You just have to pass your biology exam." He smiled a little.

John smiled. "Yes, you're right," he agreed.

"I told you I usually am," Sherlock said. He looked at his watch. "Do you have to be home at a certain time or anything? You know, like a little boy would? I don't want you to have to sit on the naughty chair."

John tilted his head and tried to figure out if Sherlock was making fun of him for wanting to live at home with his mum. He shook his head. "I can go home whenever I want," he said.

"So are you going to go straight home after dinner then?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged. "I should check on my mum," he said. "But I don't have to go back right away."

"What are you going to do then?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged. "If you have to go I'll . . . study for a bit more and probably go home too."

"I don't have to go home at a certain time," Sherlock said.

John felt like they were going in circles. "Well, what do you want to do?" he asked.

Sherlock didn't really know the answer to that. He kind of liked being around this John, though he had no idea why. He also had no idea why John hadn't yet tried to get away from him. "I don't know . . . we could just do something . . ." Sherlock said awkwardly.

"Okay," John said. "I'd like that. You're not as bothersome as I first thought," he smiled.

"Well, you might want to withhold your decision until you get to know me better," Sherlock said. Angelo came over and Sherlock got out his wallet, but Angelo shook his head.

When they got outside, Sherlock said, "He never lets me pay. Which is why I always go there." He smiled a little. He realised he'd smiled more today than he had all month.

"I'll keep that in mind," John said as they walked out. "It was really good. He's nice."

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He led them back to the park, but this time they sat in a more secluded area. "I'm going to have a cigarette which I have a feeling you won't like but I'm going to do it anyway," he said. He lit up and took a long drag before exhaling. "Don't you have friends?" he asked as he watched the smoke dissipate.

John wrinkled his nose but he didn't say anything. "I guess you can call my teammates friends but we don't really talk about personal stuff or anything."

"Why not?" Sherlock asked.

John shrugged. "I don't know. We just . . . don't. Maybe if one of us kicked it off or something but no one wants to be the first one." 

"And girls?"

John looked out at the park and swung his legs a bit. "That's not really . . . my area," he said slowly.

Sherlock glanced at John. "That surprises me," he said.

John looked over at him. "Does it?"

"Yeah, a bit," Sherlock said. "You seem like the type who'd be into that sort of thing. I mean, because you're handsome and all."

John felt his cheeks warm softly before looking out at the park again. "Can't I be handsome and 'into that sort of thing' but like boys instead?"

"Do you?" Sherlock said, wanting to turn his head and look at him but for some reason choosing not to.

John nodded. "I do." He licked his lips and took a deep breath. "The way you talk about it makes it sound like you're not 'into that sort of thing'."

"I wouldn't know, I guess," Sherlock said. "I mean, that business has . . . well, it's trouble, isn't it?"

John looked over at him again. "So you've never been in love?"

"I just mean . . ." Sherlock looked over at him. "It's easier when I'm asking the questions, I think," he said, feeling his face flush a bit.

John met his gaze and held it. "I know it is. But it's not quite fair to take them all," he said.

"Maybe," Sherlock said.

John held his gaze for a moment and then looked out at the park again, trying to keep his breathing steady. "I think I should go now," he said. 

"Okay," Sherlock said, throwing his cigarette down. "Anyway, good luck with that studying. Thanks for . . . a nice evening." He stood up.

John stood up as well and shouldered his bag. "Thanks for . . . everything," he said awkwardly. He wanted to thank Sherlock for listening and for not making him feel stupid about sharing his predicament, but saying all of that seemed silly. "See you," he said as he headed in the direction of his house.

He ate dinner with him mum in a tense silence. He told her about school, and she hummed quietly. He was glad when they were finished, and he could go up to his room. He was getting ready to put music on like he usually did before going to bed but there was no need today. There was no fighting. He could actually study.

He took his notes out and looked over them, rewriting a few things to make sure he really understood them until he dozed off with his notes spread all over the bed.


	5. Weekend Away

The next day John made it to class on time, the only one he had on Fridays. He was thinking about Sherlock and wondering when he would see him again. Now that he could study at home there was no need to go to the cafe and after this weekend he'd have nothing to study for a week.

When his class was over he stood in front of the building for a minute, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to see Sherlock again. He turned and headed for the cafe. As it was the middle of the day it was nearly empty. He ordered his tea and sat in the back corner table, listening to his music and hoping Sherlock would show up as well. They should have exchanged numbers.

Sherlock had fallen to sleep with thoughts of John Watson and he woke to them as well. Why? He already knew all about him -- there were no more mysteries to try to solve. He got up and checked his email. There was something from Jim but after scanning it, Sherlock realised it was the equivalent of his mindless talk at the table that day so he ignored it. Then his phone rang.

"Mother needs you to come this weekend," Mycroft said.

"Why didn't she ring me then?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft didn't answer that question but instead said, "Shall I tell her to expect you this afternoon?"

"I have class," Sherlock lied.

"No, you don't," Mycroft said.

"I've got to meet that professor," Sherlock said.

"That also is a lie. Enjoy your trip home," Mycroft said and hung up.

Sherlock threw his phone on his bed and swore. Then he got a bag and packed a few things before setting out to catch a train to his parents'.

John was into his third cup of tea when he finally admitted to himself that Sherlock wasn't coming to see him. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't anything serious and maybe he'd just been held up, but a small part of him couldn't help feeling hurt. He thought everything between them had been going rather well, but maybe John's over sharing had scared Sherlock off. He finished his tea and headed home. 

He spent the weekend studying in his room and trying to get his mum out of the sad mood she had settled into. It was hard because Harry hadn't been in touch with either of them and with her drinking it was hard not knowing if she was okay. That worry was distracting to his studying, almost as much as the fighting had been. On Saturday he avoided the cafe out of principle, wanting to prove that he could not show up places, too.

Sherlock's mother was pleased to see him, of course, but he felt like he spent the whole first night waiting for a bomb to drop. But she didn't bring anything up, didn't explain why she had wanted to see him. His father was away on business, so maybe she just didn't want to be on her own. Or maybe Mycroft had simply lied.

She let him go up to his old room early, and Sherlock read until late into the night. He felt a bit odd -- it'd been weird to not see John today, even though that was a bit silly really. He wondered if John had been studying and how things were going now that his sister was gone.

The next morning Sherlock's mum asked about the summer research project, wanting to know what kind of work he'd be doing. So Mycroft had already told her about that. He explained everything the professor had told him and briefly mentioned that another student would be helping as well.

"That'd be nice," she said. "Maybe you'll become friends."

"I don't think so," he said. He tried to explain his discomfort -- he still couldn't put it into specifics, but the way the professor and Jim were so overly friendly just didn't sit with him right.

"There's nothing wrong with friendliness, Sherlock," she said. "You need to find another friend."

He felt his body tense, remembering. Eventually he said, "Overly friendly means too much. I'm not sure if I should be a part of it."

"Well, it's up to you," she said. "If it doesn't work out, you know you can come live here -- Mycroft can probably find something for you to do."

That didn't help at all. He went out and sat in the garden and read for the rest of the afternoon.

At dinner, his mother said, "I think you should make an effort to find more friends, Sherlock. If you don't want this job, that's fine -- you should do what you want, but don't not take it just because you might make a friend. Not every friendship . . . will be like that."

He looked over at her. "I do have friends," he said quietly. "Well, a friend."

"Well, that's good," she said. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

"A boy," Sherlock said. He felt a bit stupid -- this seemed like the kind of conversation a mother would have with a five-year-old.

"And you're . . . just friends?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, even though he was pretty sure what she meant.

She ignored his reply. "What's his name then?"

"It's John," Sherlock said. "He's in my chemistry class," he added, as if somehow that made it seem more normal.

"Well, maybe he could come visit you this summer? I'm sure we'd all like to meet him," she said.

"Well, that's never going to happen," he said. "And you know why. Besides, if I take this job, I'll probably get my own flat there, you know, so I could get to work easier."

"Hmm, I don't know," she said. "That's a pretty big step -- have you spoken to Mycroft about it?"

"It's none of his business," Sherlock said defensively.

"I know," she said. "But he's . . . well, he's older, isn't he? Maybe a little wiser about life? He's so successful and I know he'd help you figure things out."

"Mother," Sherlock interrupted.

"Just let bygones be bygones, Sherlock. You're both . . . my sons and I want you to get along."

Sherlock didn't know what to say. None of what had happened had been her fault. He tried to give her a smile and then went back outside to be alone.

On Sunday the atmosphere in John's house was too much. By then his mum was hounding John to text his sister, hinting that they should go out to look for her. He went to the cafe instead and sat at the usual table, taking one last look at his notes. This would be the last study time he put into this ridiculous subject until the final. When the cafe closed John went home and found that his mum was gone. The note she left said that she had left him money for pizza and that she would be back soon. John sighed and finally texted his sister, begging her to contact their mum so she could at least stop worrying that she was dead. Harry called John instead, already drunk and shouting about how he didn't know what it was like being an 'outcast' like her. Angry, John started shouting back at her. No one cared that she was gay. He was gay himself and no one was kicking him out of the house. The difference was her drinking. That shut her up enough for John to hang up and call their mum instead to let her know Harry was fine. He went straight to bed and listened to his music until he fell sleep. 

When Sherlock got back into town, he decided to walk by the cafe just in case John was there, but it was already closed up. He wished he'd had John's phone number so he could talk to him, even though he wasn't quite sure why he wanted to so much. He kind of felt like he wanted to tell him what his mother had said, but why would he share that? Sherlock didn't talk to anyone about his family. Was it just because John had talked about his own family? Or was it something else? He went back to his room. After dropping off his bag, he went down to the common room, looking around for someone studying biology. When he found a kid with the same book that John had been using, he asked if he had an exam at noon tomorrow. When he said yes, Sherlock got the room number, and then went upstairs to bed.

The next morning John woke up thinking about Sherlock and wondering where he had been all weekend. He didn't have chemistry today, but he hoped he would at least see Sherlock around campus at some point. He wasn't sure precisely what he was feeling, but he knew he just wanted to see Sherlock. At the lecture hall he took a seat in the back and, feeling a bit nervous, started his exam. 

Sherlock's alarm woke him, and he quickly got up and showered. He got dressed and made it his way over to the biology building, sitting down on the floor to wait outside the exam room.

John worked as quickly as he could and was pleased to see he recognised a lot of the questions from his studying. Half of them he remembered because of Sherlock, because they were the parts he was always interrupting. When he finished, he walked up to turn the exam in and stepped out of the room, bumping right into --

"Sherlock," he said as he stepped back. He noticed his chest swelling a bit -- he was happy to see him and he only just stopped himself from saying that he had missed him.

Sherlock quickly stood up. "How'd it go? I went to my parents' for the weekend," he said, a little flustered. He'd worked out his plan about how to find John, but hadn't thought about what he'd say when he saw him.

"Oh," John said, realising he felt relieved that there was an actual reason for his absence. A good reason. "Um, I think it went well."

"Good, good," Sherlock said. "I was worried . . . not worried, just . . . thinking about you." He looked at his shoes awkwardly. "Anyway, that's it, I guess, I just wanted to make sure the exam was okay."

"Does that have to be it?" he asked, still watching Sherlock. "I mean . . . I was thinking about you too and, well, I thought maybe we could go celebrate the end of the exam."

"Yeah, good," Sherlock said. "That'd be good." He stood kind of stupidly for a minute and looked around at a few other kids who had come out of the room, waiting for them to walk off. "Where do you want to go?"

John smiled wider. "What about our—the cafe?" he asked, his cheeks flushing lightly. 

"Yeah, okay," Sherlock said. They walked off together. "I thought about calling you, but I didn't have your number. I just mean . . . I thought about it."

"I thought about it, too," John told him. "When we get to the cafe, we should exchange them if you want."

Sherlock walked on, wondering why he'd been so glad to see John. When they got to the cafe, he opened the door and let John go in first.

"You sit down and I'll get us some tea," John said, pointing to their usual table.

Sherlock sat down and watched John walk up to the counter. Then he scanned the place but didn't see anyone he knew. It was actually relatively quiet, but he knew it'd get busier soon. "Thanks," he said, when John returned with their drinks. He quickly took a drink even though it was too hot.

"So, how was your weekend at your parents'?" John asked. 

"It was okay," he said. "I just saw my mum, my dad was away." He swallowed awkwardly. "I mainly read, I guess, and . . . talked to her about the summer."

"About the job you're not sure of? Did she help?" John asked. 

"Not really," Sherlock said. "If I don't take it or find something else, I'll have to go back there for summer and maybe work with him, my brother, I mean. I don't want to do that."

"You don't get along with your --"  
  
"No," Sherlock said before John's question had even finished.

"But you don't feel good about the job with the professor, right?" John asked. "Is there another professor you can work for?"

"I don't know. I haven't checked because I didn't want Ellis to find out," Sherlock said. "I just wish I knew more about the whole thing." He drank some more tea. "Anyway, how was your weekend?"

John glanced down at his tea and took a deep breath before telling Sherlock about his mum wanting to go look for his sister and the fight they had when she called him. "I know it's going to keep being like this if she keeps disappearing for days at a time, but I don't know what to do about it."

"It's between your sister and your mum, you know," Sherlock said. "You can't solve it yourself."

"But it's my family. I can't just ignore it," John said, looking up at him.

"I didn't say ignore it, though that's an option," Sherlock said. "I just said maybe you shouldn't try to solve it. I don't know them, I don't know very much about the way normal families act, but you're trying to be a doctor, aren't you? If you put yourself in the middle between your mum and your sister . . . it'll be hard to stay on track for what you want." He glanced over at John. "I'm sorry . . . I feel like that was the wrong thing to say. I'm not . . . good at this kind of stuff."

John gazed at him for a moment. "I just feel selfish, I guess," he shrugged and sipped at his tea. "I know it's silly and I know I'll eventually have to go, but I just wish I could feel better about it."

"It's weird -- I couldn't wait to go," Sherlock said. "We're different, I guess." He drank some more tea. "Let's talk about something else."

John nodded. "What do you like to do when you're not in school?"

"Mostly reading and experiments -- I'm usually in the library or one of the labs," Sherlock said. "What about you?"  
  
"I like reading or listening to music," John said. "What brought you to the cafe? Instead of the library, I mean."

"Tea," Sherlock said honestly. "That's the only thing bad about the library. Well, that and sometimes there are students there, but you'd be surprised how often there's not. Or at least not as many as here. But I didn't want to go back to my room because they'd be there, too. I really never expected there to be so many students around when I came to college." He smiled a little.

John grinned. "It is rather annoying. And of all the students, I was forced to share a table with the most bothersome one!" he teased. He reached over with his leg and gave Sherlock's a little push.

Sherlock smiled and then took a drink from his cup. "What's going on here, John?" he said, staring down at the table. "Are you . . . flirting with me?"

John felt his cheeks warm. "I-I'm sorry. Yes. But . . . I can stop," he stammered.

Sherlock thought for a moment. The flirting wasn't bad -- in fact, he'd kind of been enjoying it, and besides it didn't mean anything. "I'm not sure you need to stop," he said quietly and finished his tea. He got up and returned with a fresh pot.

John couldn't help smiling as he watched Sherlock go up for more tea. He didn't need to stop.

Sherlock topped up both their mugs. "So we've got a month left, will you be panicking about all your exams until then?" he asked.

"Just the week before," John smiled. "And I don't panic. I study," he said.

"Right," Sherlock said. "So we won't be arguing over silence at this table anymore. Um, does that mean we'll only be seeing each in chemistry class?"

John thought about that for a moment before shaking his head. "I wouldn't really like that," he said.

"Why, though? Why do you . . . like me?" Sherlock asked. He knew it sounded stupid, but the truth is he did kind of like John. He'd even called him his friend when he described him to his mother. Why, just to shut her up or because they were friends? It was confusing. Sherlock was so good at reading people, but normally he could categorise them so simply: they were either someone who was clever and useful or someone who was an idiot and annoying. What category did John fit into? At first, he'd annoyed Sherlock but then it was Sherlock who'd taken him to the park that day and asked about his life. Why had he done that? John clearly wasn't stupid, but it's not like he could help Sherlock get a job or understand an experiment, so how did he fit into Sherlock's life?

John looked up at him and studied his face for a moment before answering. "You're smart. You challenge me and you care about me and you're very cute and . . . and yeah," he trailed off, feeling his cheeks warming. Cute? Had he really said cute? He sort of wished the ground would open up and swallow him.

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. Were those good enough reasons to be friends? What about the risks -- wasn't John worried? Sherlock knew he needed to say something back. "I guess. . . that makes sense," he said, looking over at John. "You're smarter than you think, you know, and you're also . . . handsome." His face flushed because he knew what he was admitting.

John felt his own face blush but he looked up and smiled shyly at Sherlock. "Well, okay. Good. Um . . .do you want to go on a date?"

"Will it be different than what we're doing right now?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, well, no but . . . we'll both know and we can get dressed up and it'll be fun," John explained.

Sherlock wasn't entirely convinced -- his definition of fun generally didn't match other people's his age. But he looked at John who was quite smart and nice and handsome and said, "Okay. When?"

"How about tomorrow night?" John asked.

"Yeah, all right," Sherlock said. "Look, I really don't do things like this anymore, so don't get your hopes up or anything. . . but yeah, I'd like that."

"It's just dinner, I mean, don't expect anything grand from me. I'm boring," he smiled.

Sherlock leaned in across the paper. "John Watson, if you've just had me accept a date with you, I can guarantee you are not boring. I do not have any interest in boring people," he said, smiling. It flashed in his mind that he kind of felt like kissing John, which was another confusing, but still kind of a nice, feeling. 

John held his gaze and leaned over the table a bit as well. "Well, I hope you remember that during our date," he smiled. Sherlock had very nice eyes. John liked being close to them, close enough to really look into them.

"I'll try -- if you're too boring after one date, I'll let you know. If I'm too unpleasant, you can let me know," he said.

"You? Unpleasant? I don't believe it," John smiled. They were both still leaning forward, and he had the urge to reach out and touch Sherlock, maybe just his cheek with his hand, but he decided he should wait for the proper date.

"Well, believe it, as I said, it's been a long time and there's probably a good reason for that," Sherlock replied. He glanced at his watch. "Look, I've got to get going, I've got a class -- when and where should we meet tomorrow?"

"Let me have your number and I'll find a good place and text you," he said, pulling out his own phone.

Sherlock gave him his number and then asked John to send a text so he'd have his as well. "Well," he said, fiddling with his mug. "I'm glad your exam went well, and I'm glad I got to see you."

"Me too," John agreed. He stood and hesitated a second. "So, I'll see you again tomorrow? I'll pick a good place," he promised.

"Yeah, I'll see you," Sherlock said. "Have a good evening, John Watson." He smiled, grabbed his stuff and took off.

"Bye," John said even though he was already gone. John walked home slowly, feeling very happy about how the day had gone and even more so thinking about tomorrow night. He needed to pick a very good place for them.

Once Sherlock's class had finished, he walked straight back to his room and stayed in for the rest of the night. He lay on his bed with his laptop, trying to investigate John. Maybe he'd discover what he found so intriguing. After an hour or so, though, he'd not found anything mysterious or problematic at all; the little he found online showed John to be a pretty normal person. Sherlock slid his laptop to the side and closed his eyes to think. 

Why was Sherlock so intrigued by a pretty normal person? This was unusual. Was it just that he . . . fancied him? He did kind of fancy him, he couldn't help it. But Sherlock Holmes knew that being close to another person could also be dangerous. He took a deep breath. Maybe he needed to stop thinking about it so much. Maybe this was all just nothing. Maybe.

Not having anything else to study, John spent the night looking at different restaurants in the area that were nice, that he could afford. When he found a place he liked he texted Sherlock the address.

_Does 7 work for you? -JW_

Sherlock heard his phone and realised he must have fallen asleep. He rolled over and read the text from John.

_Yes. SH_

_Do you want to meet there or should I pick you up? I can bring my mum's car. -JW_

John hoped it was just the texting making it seem like Sherlock wasn't excited about it.

_I'll walk. See you at 7. SH_

Oh. John supposed that was fine as well even though he'd been hoping for a little more of a response. He sent a good night and then turned his music on, playing what might happen on the date in his head as he drifted off to sleep.


	6. The First Date

The next morning Sherlock woke up abruptly. He was exhausted -- he must have had dreams, even though he couldn't remember them. He showered and got dressed, which helped him feel a bit better and then went to his two classes, coming home straight after so he could lay down and rest. It helped a little. He couldn't tell if his anxiety was excitement or nerves, but decided it was likely a mix of the two. He also decided this was probably normal -- he'd seen other students behaving strangely before dates. He didn't like to think of himself as normal, but at least it made him obsess a little less.

He walked to the restaurant John had chosen, getting there a little bit early so he could have a cigarette before John arrived. He looked over the menu in the window. He took a deep breath. He could handle this. He liked John even if he didn't understand exactly what was going on, and he was going to be spending the evening with John. He could handle this.

John skipped his only class, so he slept in and then took his time getting ready. He wanted to text Sherlock throughout the day, but he didn't want to overdo it. Sherlock didn't seem that into texting.

When it was time to go he took his mum's car so he didn't get all sweaty from the walk, fending off her questions about his date and claiming he was late already. He parked and headed to the restaurant, smiling when he saw Sherlock. "Hello."

"Hello," Sherlock said. He was smiling even though he hadn't decided to do so. "You look nice. Did you have a good day? Did you have class?" He took a deep breath. "Sorry, anyway, this place looks nice. I've been reading the menu."

"I skipped class," he admitted. "There were a lot of good reviews so I hope you like the food."

"I'll try," Sherlock said. He sat down across from John. "I already know what I want to order."

"Oh. I just need a minute," John said.  
  
"That's okay, I didn't mean to rush you," Sherlock said. "You know the first day we met and we annoyed each other? It was easier then. I'll be honest, I feel nervous and I really don't want to be." He took a sip of the water sitting in front of him. He felt a little bit better having said that.

"I don't want you to be nervous either," John assured him. "Just be yourself."

"I'll try -- sorry," Sherlock said. He thought about his breathing while John looked at the menu, and he started to relax a little. He glanced over at John who still seemed smart, interesting, and handsome.

"Don't be sorry. It's okay to be nervous," he said, smiling at him. He took a quick look at the menu and picked what he wanted, waiting until they ordered to start chatting again. "Did you have class today?" 

"Two of them -- both chemistry, so both are probably boring to you," Sherlock answered. "What about you?"

"I told you before I skipped," he smiled. "I only had one anyway so I let myself sleep in as a reward for doing well on my exam."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "All right, look," he said quietly. "I'm having trouble being normal because I'm never really normal and I can't figure out if it's good to like you but it seems I do, and I just wish I understood, all right?"

John blinked at him, trying to understand his tone. "Are you upset?" he asked quietly. Sherlock sounded angry that he had any good feelings towards John. It didn't make sense.

"I'm confused," Sherlock admitted. "I guess I don't handle confusion very well." He took another drink of water. "And you told me not to say sorry, so I won't," he added. "Because sadly, this is in fact me being myself."

"Well, I like you when you're yourself so just . . ." John trailed off. He didn't really know what else to say or do.

Sherlock looked over at John. He liked John, too. If they were going to do this, Sherlock would need to make sure he did it right this time. He'd have to pay better attention and get everything just right. He took a deep breath. "Um maybe, let's not call this a date. Let's just call it . . . dinner. But not like last night. Dinner with the possibility of something else afterwards. . . I mean, if something were to happen." He smiled a little.

The possibility of something else afterwards. The words made John shiver lightly, but he nodded and cleared his throat lightly. "Just two friends getting something to eat," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. He wanted to change the subject from all that. "Look, I thought about your situation. I don't really relate to your desire to stay, but I know it's real to you so maybe instead of thinking about leaving, you should just try to think more about how to help your mother be happier without your sister. I mean, she's gone -- at least for now -- but the truth is both of you are going to be gone for good at some point. So instead of just trying to fix the immediate situation, if you want to help her, you could think of a way to help her that's more long term. And then when you are ready to move out, you know she'll be okay. Just an idea."

"But how?" John asked. "The problem isn't really that Harry left. It's that she gets so, so drunk and she could get very sick or hurt. My mum's worried."

"Well, you could try to get Harry help or, I don't know, there has got to be help for people who love drunks -- there are tons of drunks out there," Sherlock said.

"Maybe I can find a support group," John said. "I just don't want her to worry."

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "But worry is what mothers do." He looked up when the server brought the food. Once he'd gone, he added, "A support group's a good start."

"What if she feels like I'm betraying her?" John asked.

"Why would she?" Sherlock asked. "Betrayal is about lying. You don't have to lie to her. You just want to help her, so help her."

"I meant my mum, when I leave," John said. He realised his mind was jumping all over the place. "Can we talk about something else? We're supposed to be having fun."

"Solving problems is fun," Sherlock said. "But we don't have to keep talking about it." He took a bite of food. "Except for one more thing -- you're an adult. You have to live. I know things are tough right now, but I'm sure your mum knew from the beginning that at some point you'd move away. Moving away isn't betraying her." He took another bite of food. "That's all. We can talk about something else now."

John sighed softly. He knew that Sherlock was right but that didn't make it any easier. He ate a bit of food and changed the subject. "So. If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?" 

"Easy -- Uzbekistan," Sherlock said. "No, I'm just kidding. I don't know why I said that. I guess I'd go to Portland, Oregon, in the States. There was an interesting crime there I'd like to investigate."  
  
John smiled at that. "You're very interesting," he said.

"I am, aren't I?" Sherlock said, smiling a little. "Anyway, it's just one that I read about when I'm bored. I like solving puzzles, I guess. I'd been hoping this research thing would be like that, but it just seems like it's collecting data for no reason and that's a million times less satisfying."

"It doesn't sound like you really want that job," John said.

"I don't think I do," Sherlock said. "But I already say yes and I do want the money."

"Will it be worth it if you're miserable?"

"I don't know . . ." Sherlock said. "I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out. I need more information -- about the other student and how much I'd have to be around him. I mean, it's one thing to do work for no purpose but, to be fair, a lot of my classes are like that. But if I'll have to spend time with someone I hate . . . that'd make it much harder."

"Have you met him yet?" John asked.

"Yeah, he was that guy at the cafe with the professor . . . I didn't like him," Sherlock said. "I'm not sure why yet, but I had a bad feeling."

"Oh right," John nodded. He remembered that boy. "Maybe there's something else you could work on."

"Hmm. . . maybe," Sherlock said. "I guess I don't see that happening." He ate a little more food and then put down his fork. "You like your dinner? Are you glad you picked this place?"

"I do like it. How about you?" he asked, glancing at Sherlock's plate. It was hardly touched. "You can pick next time."

"It's good. I can take the rest with me -- I'm not a big eater," Sherlock said. "So you're thinking we'll have dinner again?"

"Well, we can do all sorts of things. But yes, I'd like to go on another date," he smiled. 

"Except this isn't a date, remember?" Sherlock reminded him. "Next time I'll pick. Not that I haven't enjoyed this. I have -- I feel more relaxed now."

"I'm glad to hear that," he smiled. 

"So is the non-date over when we, well, when you finish eating?" Sherlock asked.

"It's not over until I take you home," John said, signalling the waiter so he could pack up the food and take the money. John paid and then stood. "Will you let me drive you home?"

"All right," Sherlock said. "Are you a safe driver?"

"Very much so," John smiled, leading the way out to the car.

When they got to the car, Sherlock got in. He put his seatbelt on and then braced his arms against the dash. "All right, I'm prepared," he said, smiling cheekily. "If anything happens, make sure someone sweeps my room before my parents arrive."

John laughed as he started the engine. "Which way?"

"Turn left up there," Sherlock said, pointing.

John turned and looked around, remembering suddenly that Sherlock lived in campus. So why were they headed the opposite way?

"First right on the roundabout," Sherlock said. "It's about two miles up here on the right." He watched out the window and then said, "Here, pull in here."

John followed his directions and looked around the empty little area. And then the realisation hit him, making him very warm. "So, you live here?" he asked.

"I don't live here," Sherlock said. "I just thought we could have some privacy here." He looked over at John slowly.

John licked his lips and turned to look at Sherlock. "You know, you really are very clever," he murmured.

Sherlock leaned over and kissed John's mouth softly. "Is this what you like?” he whispered, kissing John's jaw as he waited for an answer.

John nodded, dipping to find his mouth again and kiss him properly.

Sherlock leaned further, pressing himself to John, kissing him harder, as his hand gripped John's leg.

John's hand came up to Sherlock's cheek before sliding into his hair, gripping a bit hard as he tugged Sherlock closer.

Sherlock pulled back and said, "I can taste your dinner." He smiled and kissed John lightly.

John laughed softly and leaned in to kiss him again. He cursed the middle counsel, wanting to get closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock slipped his hand under one of his thighs. "Let's get out of the car," he said.

John nodded, panting softly. "Where?" he murmured, moving to get out of the car.

Sherlock moved out his door and round to John's side. He leaned against the car, pulling John against him, kissing his mouth. He rest his hands on John's hips.

John fell into Sherlock so they were flush together. This was much better. The touching was so much better.

Sherlock dropped his mouth to John's neck a little, sucking the skin there, before going back to kissing his mouth. He pressed tight against him.

John's mind was racing. Should he invite Sherlock to his house and sneak him in? Should he ask to go into the back seat? Was it too early? Did it matter? He tilted his head and licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss.

Sherlock kept kissing John, pulling them as close as possible. After a few moments, he stopped and looked at him. "That was good, wasn't it?" he asked.

John nodded as he caught his breath. "Yeah, very good."

"I think we should stop," Sherlock said. "Unless you want to come sleep in my room." He kissed him again, biting at bit at his lower lip. "Which would be very nice, but probably not a good idea."

"I-I suppose it wouldn't," John agreed softly. "Let me take you home."

Sherlock kissed him one more time and then stepped aside, moving around the car and getting back in.

John climbed in and started the car, making his way back to the school. "We can do that again tomorrow after our da -- non date," he corrected himself.

"Tomorrow? Hmm . . . you're eager," Sherlock said, smiling.

John flushed lightly. "Aren't you?"

"Do you mean do I have an erection?"

"What?" The car swerved as John righted the wheel quickly. "No! I -- is that what you meant?"

"I meant eager, which is why I said it," Sherlock said. "But you implied something else."

"I didn't! I asked the same thing," John insisted.

"I know you asked the same thing," Sherlock said. "But you _implied_ something else." He looked out the window. "So you're saying you didn't have an erection?"

"I didn't imply anything!" John insisted again. "And no I don't." Which was a bit of a lie, but this was an odd conversation.

"Didn't you like it?" Sherlock asked, looking over.

"The kissing? Yeah," John nodded. They pulled up and he parked, turning off the engine.

"But not enough to get an erection?"

John just sat there. Wasn't Sherlock embarrassed? His own cheeks were burning.

"And if I wanted to make sure you got one, say tomorrow, is there something else I should do?" Sherlock asked.

John swallowed hard. "The kissing is fine . . . I mean, it's good," he said. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'll keep that in mind. I want to make you feel good." He looked up at the hall. "Thank you very much for dinner, John Watson," he said. "I look forward to tomorrow. Same time, yeah? Good night." He opened the door and got out, walking up to his room.

"Good night," John said, watching Sherlock until he was inside. He groaned and dropped his head on the steering wheel, thinking about what had just happened. He couldn't believe any of it, especially what Sherlock had just said. He started the car and headed home. 

Sherlock didn't even hear the stupid students he passed on his way to his room. He didn't even care. He got ready for bed without even turning on his light. When he lay down, he slipped his hand into his pajama bottoms and started stroking himself, thinking of kissing John against the car. It didn't take him long to reach orgasm, and then he rolled over. He wanted to be with John. He made a promise to himself to do everything right.


	7. The Second Date

In the morning John found Sherlock's number while he got ready.

_Hello. -JW_

Sherlock unusually slept soundly the whole night and only woke when he heard his phone on the table next to the bed. He reached over and saw it was from John.

_I'm still sleeping. SH_

He set the alarm for an hour so he'd have time to shower before his first class and then went back to sleep. When he woke, he got ready and headed out to class.

Oh. John felt bad for waking Sherlock so he didn't text again until his class was over 

_I can't wait to see you tonight. -JW_

As Sherlock was walking home, he checked his phone and saw the text from John. That was nice. Then he remembered he was in charge of what they were going to be doing, so as soon as he got back, he started working on a plan. When he felt satisfied, he lay down on his bed for a few hours to rest.

As John walked to his second class he held onto his phone and then, when there was still no answer, he was reluctant to put it away. As he listened to the lecture half of his mind was on his phone, wondering why Sherlock wasn't answering. Did he still want to go on the date tonight? He was supposed to pick a place for them and yet he hadn't told John anything. As soon as the class was out he checked his phone, but there was still nothing. He headed home and, a bit reluctantly, started to get ready. He had a bad feeling about it all.

When Sherlock got up from his nap, he started to get ready. He tidied his room a little, getting his stuff ready for class tomorrow since he was planning to get home quite late. At about ten minutes to seven, he walked down to the car park to wait for John to arrive. But he didn't. At about ten past, he got out his phone.

_Where are you? SH_

The vibration of his phone made John jump a bit. When he read the message, his brow knitted in confusion.

_At home. -JW_

He knew it was a poor answer but he hadn't heard anything all day and now this and he was angry.

_I thought you were picking me up at 7. SH_

Sherlock felt confused. Had John forgotten or had he changed his mind. 

_All I knew was a time. You didn't tell me anything else. -JW_

Sherlock sighed. This was true, of course, but why hadn't he just come?

_Are you going to come pick me up or not? SH_

John felt a spike of anger again and almost said no. But maybe Sherlock had texted the wrong person and thought John knew the plans or maybe he had just been busy and forgotten. He got up and took the keys for the car, not answering until he was pulling away from his house.

_Yes. -JW_

Sherlock waited for John. When the car pulled up, he got in, but before John said anything, he said, "If you don't want to go, that's fine. We don't have to. But say now before we leave and both have a bad time."

"What? You're the one that ignored me all day!"

"I didn't ignore you -- I didn't even see you so how could I ignore you?" Sherlock said, genuinely confused. "Look, is that a yes or a no? Should we still go?"

"Yes, I still want to go. It's just . . . I was texting you and you didn't answer anything," he said. "I didn't know what to think. I thought you were angry."

Sherlock looked over at John. What was he talking about? "Why would I answer? You didn't ask a question -- if you'd asked a question, obviously I would have answered, but you didn't. You didn't ask a question, John." He sat back in his seat for a moment to decide what was the best thing to do. He felt a bit stupid about his plan now -- he wasn't sure if it was still a good idea. Maybe none of this was a good idea, he'd already messed up despite trying to be careful. He thought about last night, though -- he had had a nice time, he'd been anxious but it was all right, well, better than all right. "Look, let's try one more time, okay? If things can go wrong, then we don't have to see each other anymore. Besides, if you want something to eat, we need to get going as we've got to be somewhere at nine." He put his seat belt on. 

"I guess I was flirting. Or trying to, anyway." John started the car and made his way off campus. "I don't even know where we're going. You never told me."

"I didn't know you were flirting," Sherlock said quietly. "Just keep going on this road until I say to turn." His stomach hurt a little, but he tried not to think about it. "Did you have class today?" he asked, before adding "Left at the next junction."

_You'd know if you bothered to talk to me at all_ , John thought, but then he took a deep breath. Maybe Sherlock just preferred face to face conversation. "Yeah, I did. Two classes." 

"Same as me," Sherlock said. "Here, you can park up anywhere. We're going to that little bistro place." He motioned a little further down the road.

John pulled into the nearest spot. He shut off the car and turned to Sherlock. "If you don't like texting I could call you or just tell me if you prefer face to face or whatever, so I won't worry." He wanted to have a good time, but this was all just a bit odd.

Sherlock looked up at John. He was really handsome. "I don't mind texting -- I just didn't know I was supposed to text back. I guess . . . most of the time I receive texts they're from my brother who just wants an answer to a question and to whom I have nothing else to say. So I answer back and the texting's over. I'm sorry, John. I wasn't trying to be . . . anything. Please don't be mad with me. I just didn't know." He took off his seat belt. "Let's go in, yeah?"

John watched his face for a moment and realised Sherlock was telling the truth. He looked so sincere about not knowing. "Okay. Sorry. Yeah, let's go." He smiled and got out, locking the car.

Sherlock led him down to the restaurant. "It's nothing fancy," he said. "But I wanted to show you I didn't always have to take you to places where I get food for free." He held the door open for John, and they found a table near the front window. "Get whatever you want," he said, as they looked through the menu.

John smiled. "I wasn't thinking that," he said. He looked through the menu and picked a delicious looking chicken sandwich. "This place is nice, too. I didn't even know it existed."

"Well, I try to go places that students don't," Sherlock said. "Usually, at least." They ordered their food and then Sherlock asked John a bit more about his classes and then Sherlock talked about his. It seemed normal again, like last night's dinner, and Sherlock hoped that things would be all right.

When they'd finished eating, Sherlock glanced at his watch. "We should get going, I think," he said, looking up to catch the server's eye. "You can leave your car here -- it's close enough to walk."

"I should take it back, but my house is close enough to walk you home," he said.

"The night's not over, John," Sherlock said. "We're going somewhere else now."

"Oh, all right," John said, putting the keys into his pocket. He wondered if this had anything to do with erections, but he didn't ask.

Sherlock walked them down the road a bit and then through a small alley. He pulled open a side door and said, "In here."

He and John walked up a dark set of stairs and into a large room with some mattresses spread around and a few small tables with chairs in the back. "Don't panic," Sherlock said. "It's nothing perverted." He turned and pointed to the front wall. "It's a cinema. What do you think?"

John was glad Sherlock explained so quickly because he was in fact starting to panic. "Oh. Well, this is nice. What's playing?" 

"Well, nothing -- officially," Sherlock said. "As you can see, there's no one here. It's not normally open on Wednesdays, but I asked the guy who owns it if we could use it." He couldn't tell whether or not John liked the idea. "I've got a film for us -- well kind of. It's not got a story really . . . it's mostly images. But it's . . . I don't know, I quite like it." He suddenly worried this was a bad idea, but it was too late now. "Anyway, do you want to try it or not?" 

"Yeah, I think it sounds good. Your film sounds curious," he smiled.

"Okay, well, look, it's a million times better if we're lying down, but I don't want it to be strange so we could lie on different mattresses if you want," Sherlock said.

John looked at the mattress and shook his head. It was sizeable enough for two. "We can share."

"All right, choose one and I'll go set up the film," Sherlock said. He disappeared behind the wall with the screen. There was a note from the owner explaining that the film was queued up, and Sherlock should do nothing except start it. The note also said to check the fridge and when Sherlock did, there was a bottle of wine. He wasn't sure if John would like that, though, because of the whole thing with his sister, so instead he just grabbed two bottles of water and then pressed the button. He turned out the lights and then rushed back in and saw John sitting on one of the mattresses. Sherlock was glad they hadn't cancelled the date.

He gave John a bottle of water and then set his on the ground next to the mattress. He sat down, but not too close and then shifted so he was lying almost flat. "If you hate it, tell me," he said, looking over at John before turning back to wait for [**the film to begin**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qp967YAAdNk).

John settled in to watch the film, getting comfortable. It was an odd film. Some parts were creepy and made John cringe, but other parts were breathtaking. He gasped and stared in awe, fascinated by the images and the music.

Sherlock wanted to turn and look at John, but for some reason, he didn't. He hoped he was enjoying this. About half way through, he reached over and held his hand.

John jumped lightly at the contact but smiled sheepishly at Sherlock, holding his hand back has he returned to the film.

Sherlock kept his attention on the screen. "Can I move closer?" he whispered, even though he wasn't quite sure why he was being quiet since they were alone in the room.

John nodded but immediately worried that Sherlock hadn't seen it. "Yes," he whispered back, tugging his hand gently.

Sherlock slid a little closer, so that the sides of their bodies touched. He kept hold of John's hand throughout the film.

When the film ended John didn't know what to say. He had never seen anything like that before. "That was good. Interesting," he said finally.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and turned on his side to face John. He opened his eyes and looked at him. He couldn't tell for sure if he'd enjoyed it as much as Sherlock had. He put his hand on John's cheek and leaned in to kiss him.

John leaned in to close the space, kissing him softly. He really liked kissing Sherlock. He would stay here all night if he could. 

"Thanks for watching that with me," Sherlock whispered before kissing John again. His hand dropped to John's hip, and he pulled his body to face him.

John turned more towards Sherlock and kissed him. "This was the perfect night," he said, kissing Sherlock a bit harder now.

"Except for the fight, you mean," Sherlock said, shifting himself a little so one of his legs slipped between John's calves. "I'm sorry I ruined the day."

"You didn't ruin anything. It was just a misunderstanding," John said, shifting to get closer to him.

Sherlock moved even closer, his hand dropping to John's lower back, pulling him towards him. He kissed his mouth hard, slipping his tongue inside. It was good and John was good even if he wanted text messages when there was no reason for them. Sherlock could do that for him.

John lifted and followed his tug so he was half on top of Sherlock, kissing him with equal fervor as his hands moved to hold Sherlock's hair and back. 

"John," Sherlock moaned softly. "Do you like this? Do you like me?" he mumbled between kisses.

"I like this a lot," John said, kissing along Sherlock's neck. "I like you even more."

Sherlock pressed his hips up against John. "I like it, too," he said. "And you." He lifted his hands to the back of John's head and kissed a line down John's jaw to his ear which he sucked into his mouth.

"Sherlock," John trailed off and tried to shift his body weight. He was getting harder and worried Sherlock would feel it against his leg. 

"Don't, John," Sherlock said softly into his ear. "I wanted to share the film with you . . . please share this with me. Let me make you feel good." He dropped his head and sucked lightly on John's neck.

Before John's brain could catch up and stop him, John rolled his hips down and ground his erection into Sherlock's thigh. His breath shuddered, half embarrassed as he buried his face into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock slid his hands down John's back as he lifted his hips in response. "Just this," he mumbled. "For as long as we can stand it."

John nodded, unsure of what that meant. He didn't want to think about it. He kissed Sherlock sloppily, rolling his hips against him.

Sherlock could feel his heart rate increase and his breath change. He kissed John again, grinding up against him. He could feel himself getting close to coming, so he looked up at John and said, "We should stop now." He stilled his body and kissed John once more, before sliding out from under him. He looked over and smiled, before stroking John's cheek lightly 

John shuddered and rolled onto his back, covering his face as he tried to breathe. He was too hard to stand and leave. He just needed a few minutes. "Sherlock . . ."

"I'm trying to be sensible, John," Sherlock said. "It's not my strongest suit, but I'm trying." He snuggled close to John. "Let's stay like this a bit longer."

"I know. I know," John mumbled. He curled close to Sherlock and focused on his breathing, trying to settle his own.

Sherlock stayed still for a while, listening to the silence in the room. Then he said, "I think it's time for you to take me home." He leaned over and gave John a small kiss.

John nodded. He sat up and then stood, glad he was in a better state to walk now. He helped Sherlock to his feet and smiled at him. "Is this . . . can we call what we're doing dating now?"

"I don't think that'll be necessary," Sherlock said, picking up his bottle of water. "It's just us . . . what we do. Okay?" He led them to the door.

John nodded and followed him, even if he didn't quite understand the reason. He held Sherlock's hand as they walked back to the restaurant, and he opened the door of the car for him.

Sherlock got in. He looked over at John and smiled, reaching over to rest his hand on John's leg. He settled into his seat and rode quietly on the way home. Once John pulled up, he leaned over and said, "I'm sorry I don't quite get things right. Just tell me what you want me to do because . . . I like being with you."

John looked over at him and reached out, touching his cheek softly. He lowered his hand again. "I like being with you, too. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding."

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe," Sherlock said. "Good night, John." He opened his door to step out.


	8. Harry Returns

From then on, John felt pretty good about how things were going between them. They had a better understanding of each other. Sherlock started to answer John's texts and John knew better than to get upset when Sherlock didn't. They would meet between classes and sometimes they would go out on proper dates, although they still never called them that. They would make out in John's car, usually with the same intensity of the movie night. So far they hadn't gone any farther than mutual erections, but John didn't mind taking things slowly. 

Sherlock felt better too. He knew John liked him, he knew John wanted to be with him. He could do this. He felt good whenever they were together.

About two weeks after the movie night, John was at home getting ready for a date with Sherlock when he heard a lot of noise in the sitting room. Suddenly he heard Harry shouting and his mum hurrying down the stairs. He sighed and pulled out his phone, texting Sherlock that he was going to be late.

"I want the rest of my stuff!" Harry shouted.

"You packed everything!" their mum yelled back.

John opened his bedroom door as Harry was storming by to her room, his mum hurrying after her. He went down the hall and gaped at her. She was pulling the mattress off of the bed and trying to leave with it. "My place needs a bed," she said stupidly.

John caught her gaze and saw that she was drunk. Of course she was. "Doesn't your girlfriend have one?"

"Fuck off," she snapped at John. She was trying to push the mattress through the door the wrong way. Unable to keep watching, his mum helped Harry turn it the right way.

"You can't take everything by hand, Harriet."

The name set off another explosion of shouting, Harry accusing her of never respecting her choices. His mum was crying again and Harry dropped the mattress in the hall, heading for the door. John ran after her, shouting her name. "Get someone else to come get your stuff and then just -- stay away. Mum did the best she could, and she doesn't need this bullshit."

"Oh, of course not. Bullshit Harry versus golden boy John," she sneered. 

John could only shake his head. "If you stopped drinking, you wouldn't be horrible."

Harry shoved him then and laughed. "Stop drinking? Fuck off. I'm just having some fun. I'm about to go out and have some more." She left, getting into her car and driving off.

"John . . . she can't drive like that," his mum said, still crying at the top of the stairs and holding the mattress.

John sighed and grabbed the keys to the car. He texted Sherlock an apology, canceling the date for tonight and promising to make it up to him. He drove off to start searching the pubs for Harry.

Sherlock was waiting for John. When his phone vibrated, he had a bad feeling. He picked it up and read John's message.

_I'm sorry, John. Please, tell me what I've done wrong. SH_

John was in the carpark of the second pub when he got Sherlock's message. He felt bad -- he hadn't wanted to unload any more of his family stuff on Sherlock, but now it'd seemed he'd taken things the wrong way.

_You've done nothing, Sherlock. I just have to find my sister. -JW_

Sherlock felt better for a moment, before realising that was quite selfish.

_Are you all right? Can I help? SH_

_I'm okay. Just some family stuff came up. -JW_

It wasn't the most accurate explanation, but it was too hard to explain this via text. He just didn't want Sherlock to feel bad -- John thought things were going well between him, but he did notice that Sherlock's reactions were sometimes unusual. But John had to think about Harry now. He pulled into another pub and as soon as he was inside, he saw her at the bar, arguing with someone on the phone.

"You'll get your car back when I'm ready to return it!" she was shouting.

As John got closer he could hear the other voice, a woman, shouting back.

"Oh fuck off, Clara!" Harry screamed, slamming the phone onto the bar as if she'd forgotten that's not how you hung up on someone anymore.

"Harry? I'm taking you home," John said, reaching out for her arm.

She yanked her arm back and laughed. "You're not taking me anywhere! I don't have a home."

John blinked at her and, pretending she was a player on the field he scooped her around the middle and dragged her to the door. She shouted the whole way, screaming about being kidnapped and raped but no one paid her any attention. He set her down outside and shook her.

"Look at yourself! You left your own family and now your girlfriend broke up with you and you think you're fine?" he shouted. "Don't you think Mum's been through enough already, after all these years without Dad?"

Harry started crying then, slumping onto John. "I was just having fun," she mumbled. "It's easy for you because you're smart and good."

John sighed. "You're smart and good too, Harry. It's the drinking that messes everything up. Can't you stop now?"

Harry cried harder. "I will, John. I will. I promise."

John knew better than to believe her, but he didn't mention it now. "Is it Clara's car you have?" Harry nodded. "Okay. We're going to call her to come get it, okay? And then I will drive you home."

"I don't have a home. Clara kicked me out."

"Where were you taking your mattress?"

Harry shrugged and started crying again. John took her phone and called Clara with their location, sitting on the kerb with Harry while they waited.

Sherlock was glad that John had explained, but he still feel agitated. He liked knowing what was going to happen, and what he thought would happen tonight didn't. He hoped John was telling the truth.

He also didn't know if he should text John again. What would John want him to do? That's all he wanted to do -- what John wanted. He kept his phone next to him as he tried to work. 

The phone stayed silent until Sherlock was done with his work. He packed things away, got into his pajamas and then crawled into bed. He sent a text.

_I missed you tonight. I hope you are okay. Let me see you tomorrow so I know you are. SH_

It didn't help John and it didn't even really help Sherlock feel better, but it was what he felt and what he wanted to say. He turned off his lamp and tried to sleep.

Clara got the car and, after yelling at Harry for a bit, drove off. John helped a crying Harry into his car and took her home. The mattress was still in the hall, so John led her to the sofa. He explained to his mum that she needed to sleep it off, but she fussed and made tea and brought biscuits out. By then, Harry was already asleep.

John went up to bed, stepping over the mattress in the hall and sinking down onto his own. After a bit his mother came up to thank him.

"Mum, she's not going to get any better if she doesn't want to."

"I know, love. Maybe she'll want to. We'll just have to take care of her until she's ready."

John's stomach squirmed. "Mum, I'm graduating in two weeks. I won't be here when I go to medical school."

"That's not for a while. And you won't be far," she said.

"I know, but it's not the same as being here," he said.

"We'll deal with that then," she said. "Now get some rest." She left before he could say anything else. He crawled into bed and got his phone out, smiling softly at the text.

_I missed you too. I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'll see you tomorrow. -JW_

He curled up and tried to get some sleep. When he woke up in the morning and made his way down for breakfast. He assumed his mum and Harry had put the mattress away as it was no longer in the hall. But when he got downstairs his mum was crying again. Harry and the mattress were gone when she'd come downstairs. Trying to console his mum, John was late leaving, rushing all the way to school.

John's late night text woke Sherlock but he was able to go back to sleep fairly easily. He went to his first two classes and then walked over to meet with Professor Ellis. He tried hard to focus on the things he respected about the professor, rather than the things he was unsure of. However, it was most important to him to find out more about the purpose of the work, the real reason he'd be spending his time of this project. 

Ellis understood that and gave Sherlock more context. He also explained what his summer research abroad was -- which was real, so, while Sherlock still didn't explain why he'd winked that day, it made him feel better about the entire thing.

"And Jim?" Professor Ellis asked. "Have you spent any time with him?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't really know him," he said. "But . . . it's not like we have to be mates, right? I'm more of a solitary person, that's how I work best."

"Of course, that's fine," Ellis said. "I just need you two to cooperate when necessary -- it's not my business if you're friends."  
  
This made Sherlock feel much better about the project. Everything felt sorted now. He could find a flat off campus to live and everything felt sorted. He left Professor Ellis and made his way to the cafe, hoping to find John there.

John was so frazzled about being late to his first class that he skipped the second one. He really needed to see Sherlock right now. 

_Are you free? Can we meet? -JW_

_I'm at the cafe. Not too crowded. I could also come to you. Where are you? I have good news. SH_

_I'm already on my way there. Save me a seat. -JW_

A pointless request but he sent it anyways and hurried along. He was glad to hear about Sherlock having good news. It made John feel better about the disaster of last night.

Sherlock found he was smiling. He was glad he'd be able to see John, to make sure he was all right and hadn't gone off him. Maybe they could go somewhere to kiss. He looked at his watch and thought about skipping his late class. He joined the queue to get a tea and snack for John. Then he sat down and waited for him to arrive. 

John walked in and waved as he stood in line, but then noticed Sherlock actually waving him over to the table. There was already tea and a croissant on the table. "Oh, thanks," he said as he sat down. He stood and kissed Sherlock's mouth, quick and soft. "I missed you."

Sherlock glanced up to see if anyone had noticed. "I got you a snack," he said. "What happened last night?"

John took a sip of his tea before he started talking, explaining what had happened from the time Harry got there to when he woke up this morning to find her gone. He flushed with embarrassment when he realised his eyes were burning and tears spilled out when he was talking about how his mum reacted to talk of his leaving.

"John, I'm sorry," Sherlock said, reaching over to hold his hand. "That sounds horrible." He looked over at him. "It's not good for you, you know. You worry about your mother, but none of this is good for you."

"How am I going to make her understand? It just feels like I have to stay to take care of Harry and I can't. She's making her own choices . . . I can't pay forever for her choices," he said.

"You're not going to make her understand, John," Sherlock said. "Harry's choices are awful and they're the ones that can't be understood. When it's time for you to go, you'll go and your mother . . . she just will understand."

John didn't know how well that plan was going to work. He tried to calm himself down. He wasn't leaving until August -- he couldn't let this consume him right now. He took a long drink of tea. "What's your good news?"

"I spoke to Professor Ellis and feel better about the summer thing, so I can find myself a flat," Sherlock said. Somehow it didn't seem quite as good now with all that John was dealing with.

"Your own place? This summer?" John asked, raising his brows. "That's great, Sherlock. I'm glad you feel better about the job."

"Maybe you could come look at places with me . . . I mean, you'll probably be there a lot . . . until you're ready . . ." Sherlock said 

"Ready for what?" John said.

"To move out."

"And in with you, you mean?" John asked.

Is that what Sherlock had meant? He wasn't sure now, but he couldn't read John's reaction. "I just meant you'd come visit me . . . I'm sorry -- it doesn't matter. I can go look for a place on my own . . ."

"Right, of course," John said. "No, I'll go with you."

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said. "I didn't think . . . I thought you wanted to stay there."

"Sherlock, stop saying sorry. If anything, it was my mistake," John said. "Look at me. When I'm ready to leave, I will. Until then, of course, I'll come visit you. Let's not have a misunderstanding, okay?" 

"Okay," Sherlock said quietly. 

"I want to help you find a place, regardless, okay?" John said. He smiled over at Sherlock.

"Okay," Sherlock said and smiled back. "I have a couple ideas. Maybe we could go look this weekend?"

"That sounds good."

"Good, the misunderstanding can be over," Sherlock said. "What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

"I skipped my last class so I think I should study a little bit. What about you?"

"Well, I think I'll skip my last class, so maybe we could study together," Sherlock said, even though he didn't really have work to do.

"Are you sure? I don't mind waiting for you," he said. 

"Yeah, it's not important," Sherlock said. "Where should we study? We could . . . go back to mine if you want. I mean, we'd work in my room so it'd be quiet once we get in."

The small pause made John flush lightly but he nodded. "Yes, that sounds perfect."

"All right then," Sherlock said, smiling. "Finish up and we'll head off."

John finished his snack and Sherlock led them through quickly to his room. Luckily, no one said anything to them. He shut them safely inside. "Well, this is it -- it's plain and functional and a bit of a mess, but I didn't know you were coming over." 

John looked around and smiled. "It's perfect," he said. He waited for Sherlock to tell him where to sit.

"Sit on the bed," Sherlock said. "You can trust me." He smiled cheekily.

John smiled wider and moved to the bed, climbing onto it and leaning back against the wall with his bag. "It's comfy," he said.

"It's all right," Sherlock said. "Can I come study by you?"

John nodded, patting beside him as if it was his own bed to offer.

Sherlock sat down. "Perhaps we should just rest a few minutes before we study?" he suggested casually, stroking John's back lightly.

John swallowed hard and nodded. "I am quite . . . unrested," he said. He moved his hand slowly to rest on Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock scooted down a bit and pulled John with him. They were lying face to face, and Sherlock reached over and kissed his mouth.

John kissed back, his hand wrapping around Sherlock's side to his back, tugging him closer.

"If I get a flat, maybe you could sleep over or something," Sherlock mumbled, kissing John's mouth as he continued to rub his back.

John nodded, dipping to kiss his jaw and neck. "I would like that," he agreed

Sherlock rolled John over on top of him. "I've thought of you while I've been lying on this bed," he admitted, lifting his head up to kiss John's neck. 

"Have you?" John asked, pressing down against him.

Suddenly Sherlock slid to John's side. He looked over at him. "Anyway, what are you going to be studying today?"

John sighed softly and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Anatomy," he said.

"Boring but useful," Sherlock said. He pointed to his elbow. "And can you tell me which part of my anatomy this is?" he asked, smiling stupidly.

"You're underestimating how much I need to study," he teased.

"I guess so if you don't even know what an elbow is," Sherlock said, pushing at John lightly.

John grinned and pulled his book closer. "This is my best subject so I don't need too long."

"All right," Sherlock said, turning on his side to face John. "I'll study you while you study." He stared intently at John's face.

"No," John laughed, pushing him lightly. "I'll never be able to focus."

"Fine," Sherlock said, laughing as well. He stood up and grabbed a book and then lay back down again, starting to read.

John studied for just over an hour before closing his book and setting it on his bag on the floor. He admired Sherlock who was still reading.

"Are you really done or are you just horny?" Sherlock said, smiling at him.

"What? I'm really done! I don't appreciate the accusations!" he teased.

"Well, let me finish this chapter," Sherlock said, turning his head back to his book.

"All right," John said, still watching him as he read.

Sherlock finished the chapter and then set his book down. "Should we kiss for a little bit or do you have to go?" he asked, looking over at John.

"I don't have to go yet. I would really like to kiss you."

"All right," Sherlock said, moving closer and kissing him.

John brought his hand up to Sherlock's cheek, gently lacing into his hair as he returned the kiss. It was different, kissing Sherlock on his bed like this. He moved slowly so Sherlock wouldn't get the wrong idea.

Sherlock kept kissing John, his hands moving to his back. "I already have an erection," he mumbled.

John smiled at Sherlock. Sometimes the things he said still surprised John, but actually they only made him like Sherlock more. "Me too," he admitted, the kisses lighter and slower as he wondered what Sherlock would want to do about it. Usually they ground together until it was almost too much. But now they were in Sherlock's actual room, all alone.

Sherlock pushed his hips a little against John. His whole body felt hot and tense, and it felt so good, being here and kissing John.

John tugged Sherlock to him, moaning softly as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

Sherlock slipped his hand under John's jumper. He made a soft sound as he continued to kiss John and rock their bodies together. The bed made a little noise, and he wondered if it could be heard outside is his room. He didn't even care. This felt so good -- he knew he'd be thinking about this tonight before he went to sleep. 

Following Sherlock's example, John slipped his own hand into Sherlock's shirt to feel his skin as well. It was soft and warm and he longed to see it, but didn't want to risk ending the kiss. 

John's touch on his skin was too much and all of a sudden, Sherlock felt changes in his body that he wasn't going to be able to stop now. Instead he squeezed his face against John's chest as his hips jerked against John's, and he called out his name softly as he came.

John had felt Sherlock's erection on his thigh. He was lost in the heat consuming him and suddenly Sherlock was finishing. John gasped and pulled on Sherlock's hip, arching against his thigh, rubbing quickly until he came as well. It'd all been so fast and almost like they were kids again, just experimenting with each other. He lay flat on his back to catch his breath.

"I didn't think was going to happen," Sherlock said softly. "I mean, I didn't plan to . . ."

"It's okay," John said. Did Sherlock think John was angry? He wasn't. "I just didn't realise it was going to be different than the other times, but it was good," he said.

Sherlock looked up at John. "It was good," he said smiling. "I've wanted that since the first time we kissed," he admitted. "Are you sure you liked it?"

John smiled at him. Sometimes he seemed so . . . John wasn't sure what the right word was. "Do you think our kissing might end like this again?"

"I assume so," Sherlock said. "I mean, I'm not . . . I'm normal, I mean."

John tilted his head a little at the remark. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock wasn't quite sure what he'd meant. "I mean, I liked it," he said.

"Good," John leaned over and gave him a kiss. "It's normal to want more sometimes, you know."

"I know," Sherlock said. "I'm normal. Are you normal?"

"I'm normal," John said, even though he still didn't really understand.

Sherlock rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while grabbing John's hand. "I guess, I just . . . I know I don't always act normally, but it doesn't mean I don't like things like that."

John smiled softly and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "There's no need to stress," he said.

"I'm not stressed," Sherlock said, even though he was a little bit. "Look, did you like it? Is that what you like?"

"Yeah, I did. Did you?" John asked.

"Obviously," Sherlock said softly. He took a deep breath and then added, "I wish you could stay here for the night."

John thought about his mum and her reaction if John didn't come home. If he called and told her, he wouldn't be like Harry so she wouldn't have to worry. He rubbed his face hard and decided this is where it could start. Baby steps. "If you really don't mind I can stay," he said.

"Really?" Sherlock said. "I'd like that."

"I'll just call and let my mum know I won't be home tonight," John smiled.

"All right," Sherlock said. "I'm going to . . . you know, go clean up." He got up from the bed and went into the bathroom. He used a wet flannel to clean himself up, taking off his pants and sticking them in his laundry bag. He looked at himself in the mirror. He hoped this would be okay. He did like John. He did.


	9. The Sleepover

John called his mum while he waited for his turn in the bathroom, and, despite his explanation, he could hear the worry in her voice. He hated hearing that, but it also wasn't fair. He wasn't Harry and what he was doing wasn't any different from what most students his age did. Finally, he got a bit frustrated and firmly reminded her that he was a responsible adult who had decided to stay with his boyfriend for the night.

"You're right, John," his mum said quietly. "I'm sorry." That made him feel a bit guilty, but he hung up and looked around the room in silence. He hoped Sherlock hadn't heard what he'd said and if he had, John hoped it wouldn't upset him.

Sherlock knocked softly on the door when he headed back in. "If you want to use this bathroom, here's a flannel," he said, pulling a clean one out of drawer.

"Thanks," he said, looking for any sign on Sherlock's face of having heard him. "I don't have anything to sleep in, should I run home real quick?"

"No, hold on," Sherlock said. He dug into his drawer and got out a pair of pajama bottoms. "Here you can sleep in these."  
  
John took the bottoms and went into the bathroom. He put the pajamas on and looked down. They were a bit snug and too long but they would serve their purpose. He came out into the room again and got back into bed. "Thanks." 

Sherlock got onto the bed. "It's barely ten o'clock," he said. "Is it too early to go to bed?"

John shook his head. "We can just cuddle until we're sleepy," he said, moving closer.

Sherlock got under the covers and snuggled against John. "So I'm your boyfriend?" he asked quietly. Of course, that's where this had been going, but it still scared him a little.

John flushed lightly, but he wrapped his arm around Sherlock and settled against him. "I would really like you to be."

"Okay," Sherlock said.

John sighed softly and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of Sherlock's room. His hair, his bed, everything.

Sherlock let his fingertips stroke John's back lightly. "It won't be long until exams. Are you feeling okay about that?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just have to look over a few things. How about you?"

"I have some work to do, but not a lot," Sherlock said. "I wish I were going to be done for good like you," he added. "Though I guess you're just done here, but not done for good." 

"I've got years left of schooling, don't you worry," John said.

"Well, I'll still be around, you know, if you . . . need someone to be with," Sherlock said.

"What are you talking about?" John asked, pulling his head back to look at Sherlock's face.

"Just you'll have all these changes, and I'll just still be here," Sherlock mumbled, turning away slightly.

"Sherlock," John said. "I don't want this to end when I graduate."  
  
Sherlock liked hearing those words, but at the same time, that would have been an okay reason for it to end -- it'd have nothing to do with Sherlock and his inadequacies. If John meant that, when he did end it, Sherlock would know for sure it was his fault. "Okay," he mumbled.

"Sherlock," John said a little more firmly. "I don't know what's going on in your head, but I wish it'd stop. Listen to me. I want you to be my boyfriend. I want to come to your flat, sleep at your flat, sleep with you -- that's what I'm saying, so hear it, okay?"

Sherlock looked over at him. "Okay," he said. "I hear you," he added as he gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. He relaxed a little, sliding his hand down John's back and slipping his thumb inside the back of John's pajama bottoms. "Are you planning on snoring?" he asked with a smile.

"I don't think I do, but you can just push me from the bed if I start," John said.

Sherlock slowly moved his hand around the waistband on the pajamas. He slipped it down to palm John's soft cock through the material. He felt like he should say something but he wasn't quite sure what to say so he just said, "Good night."

John felt Sherlock's hand moving, and he held his breath, gasping softly when Sherlock started to touch him. But then he was saying good night and he didn't know what was going on. "Good night," he said, covering Sherlock's hand with his own. 

Sherlock closed his eyes as he pressed his mouth against the t-shirt covering John's chest. He took a few deep breaths in and out and then slipped his hand inside John's pajamas, just holding him softly.

"Sherlock . . ." John breathed softly. He'd never be able to sleep like this.

"Do you want me to stop?" Sherlock asked, leaning up and sucking on John's neck again.

John flushed as he felt a bit embarrassed. Was it normal to want so much? He shook his head. "Let me touch you, too."

"All right," Sherlock said. He reached down quickly and untied his own pajama bottoms before sliding his hand back in to hold John. "You feel nice," he said, which seemed kind of stupid but it was true. It was different, better -- touching rather than just rubbing against each other.

John put his hand into Sherlock's pajamas and gripped him gently, moaning softly at the warm, soft skin growing harder slowly in his hand. "This feels good," he said

"Do you want to keep going?" Sherlock said. "You know what I mean . . ." He started a steady stroke on John's now hard cock.

John nodded, speeding up his own hand. "Please . . . don't make us stop."

"Kiss me while . . ." Sherlock asked softly, his hand moving faster, his hips beginning to rock.

The words were hardly out before John was closing the small space and kissing him hard, moaning as his hand matched Sherlock's.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed into the kiss. Suddenly he felt the tension and opened his mouth to warn John, but it was too late and he was coming into John's hand. He tried to keep his own moving on John's cock even though it was hard to focus as his orgasm passed through him.

John licked into Sherlock's mouth as he came, following soon after with slight jerks as his orgasm slowly faded. He lay with his eyes closed, panting softly.

"God, John," Sherlock exhaled. "Everything with you is so . . . good." He pressed closer to him, panting against his chest. "I'm sorry I'm so quick . . . it's just I've not done this for so long. . ."

"It's okay, Sherlock. It's good," John said, giving him a kiss of reassurance.

Sherlock curled against John but then pulled back. "We're a mess again, hold on," he said. He got up and grabbed some tissues and handed them to John. He used the flannel from earlier to wipe off his own stomach, before getting back into the bed.

"I don't mind. I'll go home and shower in the morning," John said after cleaning up with the tissue.

"Are we going to sleep now for real?" Sherlock asked. "Or are you and your hormones going to start something up in a half hour?" He laughed a little. 

"You're one to talk," he smiled softly. "Let's sleep now, okay?"

"I like you, John," Sherlock said softly.

"I like you too," John said as he closed his eyes for sleep.

Sherlock fell to sleep quite quickly. In the morning when he woke up, he wasn't quite sure what to feel about John's sleeping over. If he was honest, what he was felt was glad. But he wondered if he should be worried -- so far things seemed pretty easy with John -- should he be worried? He didn't want to ruin it with worry. 

"Hey," he said softly. "John, wake up." 

John shifted and breathed in deeply, trying to stay asleep. But the voice reminded him of what happened the night before, reminded him where he was. He blinked his eyes open and they focused on Sherlock. He smiled softly.

"You slept over, remember?" Sherlock said. "I couldn't remember if you had class and I didn't know if I was supposed to wake you up or not, so I decided to."

"I do, but not until a little bit later. I don't mind that you woke me. I have to go home and shower," he said.

"Is it okay you slept over? I mean . . . is everything all right?" Sherlock asked, not quite sure what he actually meant.

John nodded. "Everything is all right, Sherlock," he promised.

"All right then," Sherlock said. "I'll have a quick shower and then I'll walk with you. I've got class in an hour." He stretched a little and then got up. He got some clothes out and went to get ready. He came back quickly. "Are we going to see each other later?" he asked as he put his notebooks into his backpack.

John nodded. He was dressed in his own clothes again and Sherlock's pajamas were folded on the bed. "I'll text you after my class."

They headed out, Sherlock to class and John home to get ready. When Sherlock went back to his room later, some lads in the hallway laughed as he passed. "Where's your boyfriend?" they asked. He didn't say anything, shutting the door on them.

He flopped down on his bed. He didn't care what people thought of him, but in truth he'd prefer if people just didn't think of him at all. He had always tried to be a non-entity in this residence hall. And now he wasn't. But it didn't matter what they thought, he decided. The only thing that mattered was what John thought.


	10. The Flat

At home John was surprised to find his mum angry and sulking. He felt bad, but it wasn't fair. He tried to tell her that he met someone he really liked and she wasn't going to stop him from seeing him, but it was like she didn't want to hear it. It was the most the two of them had ever fought. 

At school he was distracted. As the days passed and he spent more time with Sherlock, he was thinking about the fight and how there'd probably be more of them, the more time they spent together. He'd also been thinking about what it'd be like if he and Sherlock really did live together. Sherlock had found a couple flats he wanted to see this weekend, and John was going with him, knowing he'd be imagining living there one day as well.

On Saturday, Sherlock met John at the cafe with a list a flats to look at. The first one they went to was in the same building as the cinema. Sherlock felt quite positive about that one since he knew the owner so they headed there first.

"So, what is in your must have list? And your must not have list, for that matter," John asked as they walked.

"It must not have students," Sherlock said. "And it must be quiet. And not too fussy, I guess, since I do not always care about being neat." He looked over at John as they walked. "I don't know, John, I've not thought that far ahead. I just want to be away from noise, but I didn't consider anything else, I guess."

"I just meant stuff like what's in the kitchen or if there's a washing machine," he smiled.

"I don't care about things like that, I don't think," Sherlock said. "We'll see." He led them up to man's door. He came out and unlocked the empty flat for them. Sherlock stepped in and looked around. It was party furnished with a sofa and desk and table. He tried to imagine living there. He could. "The cinema's right underneath us," he said, looking over at John and winking. He thought about kissing down there. 

John smiled. "That's fun," he said. "But will it be noisy, do you think?"

Sherlock hadn't thought about that. He glanced at the man who confessed he might be able to hear the sound. "Think of it as free films," he said optimistically.

This was of no benefit for Sherlock -- the man never charged him for tickets anyway. "But . . . students? Will there be students around?" he asked. 

"Well, I won't lie -- we do get students. Not like the big places that show the Hollywood blockbusters, but they do come," the man admitted. "But they're the clever students . . . like you."

That was of no benefit either. No one was like Sherlock and all three of them in the room knew it. Sherlock felt disappointed.

"Have you got any other places to look at?" the man asked.

"A few," Sherlock said, getting the list from his pocket. 

The man looked over the list. "This second one's no good -- it's too close to some club they all go to. Wait, hold on," he added, pulling out his phone and turning away from them. A moment later, he put the phone back in his pocket and retrieved a pen instead. "Here, try this place," he said, jotting an address on the paper. "I know the landlady. She's nice and there will be no students around, I promise."

Sherlock looked at the paper and then at John. "What do you think?" he asked.

John knew the location. "How expensive will it be?" John asked.

"She's fair," the man said and gave them both a smile.

"It doesn't hurt to look," John said.

"Okay," Sherlock said. He thanked the man, and they made their way to Baker Street.

"This would be a great area to live in," John said. He couldn't help feeling selfishly excited about it.

"Yeah, all right," Sherlock said and gave him a little smile. "We'll see." They knocked at the door. A few minutes later a woman answered. "Are you Sherlock?" she asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said, glancing at John.

"Come in then and let me show you the flat," she said, letting them inside. She led them upstairs and then said, "Look around and come down when you're done."

Sherlock watched her leave and then looked over at John. He wasn't sure what was going on.

"It's nice," John said, focusing on the flat instead. "Very nice. Even two bedrooms . . ."

"Maybe I should get a flatmate," Sherlock said. "It's pretty good. I wonder how much it is." He sat down on one of the chairs. "I feel like I could live here. Would you come visit me?" He reached up and held John's hand.

John flushed when his meaning went over Sherlock's head. He looked around the sitting room and squeezed his hand. "Don't you . . . want me to move in?"

"What?" Sherlock said, looking up at him. "I thought -- I thought you weren't ready…"

John looked around again. "I didn't think I was, but . . . I've liked spending all this time with you. I think I'm ready."

"But what about your mum?"

"I'd be leaving soon anyway, right? She knows that, even if she doesn't like it," he said.

"Well . . . should we think about it? I haven't thought about it because I didn't think you were ready," Sherlock said. Of course, he had thought about it but it hadn't been a real possibility before. "Should we think about it?" he repeated.

Sherlock's hesitation made John's stomach squirm, but he nodded and looked around the room again. "There's plenty of time. I mean, we've got all summer."

"Would that room be yours?" Sherlock asked, nodding towards the stairs. "I mean, I'd like some details to think about while I'm thinking about it."

John nodded. "I can take the upstairs room. I assumed we would share, but it would be nice to have a space, just in case. And I would take one of those chairs by the fire. And you would have the other one and we could work there."

"And what about food? I don't like cooking and I don't care if I don't eat. You like it, I know you do -- do you think we'd have arguments over it?" Sherlock asked.

"There would be no need for arguing. I'm a decent cook. And there's food places all over -- this is a very good spot."

"And what about . . . I don't know, is there something else that could be a problem? I've never lived with anyone -- I don't know what I'm supposed to be thinking about," Sherlock admitted.

"I've only ever lived with my family so unless you're going to start drinking wildly and running off, I think we'll be okay."

Sherlock thought about things for a moment. "What do you think, John?" he asked softly.

John bit his lip. "I know we haven't been together very long, and it's still a good amount of time away so don't worry, okay? We'll figure it out."

"Does that mean you're going off the idea?" Sherlock asked.

John looked over at him and shook his head. "When I spent the night with you . . . I don't know. It felt . . . right. And I got home and my mum was freaking out but it was like, knowing that I had been with you made it easier. I wasn't in some pub and I wasn't in trouble. I was with you." He took a deep breath. "Before this new stuff happened with Harry, the plan was that I would be moving out for medical school. Harry is off messing up her own life and I can't let her mess up mine, too. One day my mum will see that." He was looking at the ground now and hoping everything he had said made sense. 

"That makes sense," Sherlock said. "Look, let's go down and talk to her and see what the details are, okay?"

"Sounds good," John nodded, still holding Sherlock's hand.

They headed downstairs and knocked on her door. She invited them in, having already made a pot of tea.

"So Sherlock, what do you think?" she asked after having poured their tea and offered biscuits.

"Yeah, it's good," he said, realising he'd never really been in a position like this and wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be doing. "Um how much is it?" he asked awkwardly.

"I think it's in your price range," she said but offered no more. 

Sherlock glanced over at John. "What do you mean?" he asked her.

"Do you remember me?" she asked. "Of course you don't -- you were barely out of nappies. I used to know your family a long, long time ago. So when Mycroft called about the flat, I thought it'd be lovely --"  
  
"You've spoken to Mycroft?" Sherlock interrupted.

She smiled. "Yes, he called a while ago. He knew I had flats to let and the upstairs one, well, it's been empty a while so I thought it'd be good to have someone I can trust up there."

"Who are you?" Sherlock said rudely.

"Mrs Hudson," Mrs Hudson said. "Remember? Think back, you were probably four . . . from the nursery at the village school? You've grown up now, obviously."  
  
Sherlock thought back and did kind of remember her. She had been nice and his mother liked her a lot. Was his mother in on this as well? "How much is the flat?" he said. "We only want to take it if we can afford it," he added. He didn't want any more involvement from his brother.

"For the summer, it'll be about half of what you're earning from your research job," she said.

"Is that the proper cost?" he said, knowing it couldn't possibly be true.

"It is," she said. "But we -- you said we." She glanced over at John. "Mycroft didn't say anything about a flatmate."

"Well . . ." Sherlock said, not knowing quite what to say. So he opted for, "This has nothing to do with him."  
  
"Of course not," Mrs Hudson said. "Is this the . . . we?" she asked, turning to look at John.

John smiled shyly at her and nodded. "We're thinking about my moving in here as well, but it wouldn't be right away," he told her. "That will give us some time and I can get some money together for the rent."

"And what's your name?" Mrs Hudson asked.

"His name's John Watson," Sherlock interrupted. "Mycroft doesn't know him. He's _my_ friend."

"All right, calm down," she said, smiling over at John. "If you trust him, I'm sure I can trust him. I believe your term ends soon, right? So Sherlock, will you be moving in then, yes?"

"I think so," Sherlock said. He felt like he wanted to go see his brother and tell him to leave him alone forever. He didn't understand why Mycroft had to get involved, and it was even more frustrating that his involvement this time actually did seem helpful. But that was a stupid reason to turn this down. "Yes," he said. "I'll move in then. John will be around, though, but he won't be officially moved in." He looked at John and then back to Mrs Hudson. "Will that work?"

"Yes," Mrs Hudson said smiling. "That will work just fine."

"It's a really nice flat. A good location. Thank you for letting it out to us," John said.

"Right, thanks," Sherlock said, reaching out to shake her hand.  
  
"Thank you, Sherlock," she said. "And John." She stood up to move the cups to the sink. "Well, you'll be in touch, I suppose. Oh, um, the furniture that's up there -- you'll want that to stay?"  
  
"Yes, please," Sherlock said. He wrote his phone number on a piece of paper and left it on her table. "Come on, John," he said, leading them out.


	11. An Invitation To Dinner

"So? That place was all right," John smiled.

Sherlock looked over at John. "I don't want him to ruin everything for us," he said.

"Who?" John asked as they walked.

"My brother," Sherlock said. "He knew I wanted to get my own place and now he's interfered -- he's arranged this and I don't like it."

"But it's a good place," John said. "What is the problem between the two of you?"

Sherlock continued walking. Then he said, "You're right. It's a good place." He squeezed John's hand. Then he said, "Where are we going anyway? Are you hungry? It's been a couple hours since you ate and I know eating's important to you." He pushed at John's arm a little to let him know he was teasing.

"I could have a snack, I suppose. I will not apologise for fueling my body," John grinned.

They walked a little further. "What about this?" Sherlock asked, motioning to a corner restaurant.

"Okay," John nodded. "It'll be my treat," he smiled.

Sherlock opened the door for John and they headed in, taking a corner booth. "I'm glad you came with me," he said. "I still like you."

John grinned. "Were you afraid you wouldn't after this?"

"No, I'm just afraid . . . well, I'm not afraid, it's just I didn't expect any of this," Sherlock said.

John smiled and then fiddled with the corner of his menu. "Please don't do something you don't want to do -- I'm sorry if I'm imposing, bringing up the whole moving in thing."

"John," Sherlock said. "That's not it. That's not what I mean. I just mean . . . I didn't expect to like being with you so much." He tried to change the subject. "What food are you going to get?"

John hoped he was telling the truth. He smiled and looked over the menu. "I think the club sandwich."

"Why don't you get some chips as well, in case I need to eat a few?" Sherlock asked.

"I'll order extra," he grinned, doing just that when the waitress came by.

"John," Sherlock said once the food was ordered. "Do you think I'll ever meet your mother?"

John's eyes widened, and he blinked at Sherlock. "I -- well, I don't see why not. You could today, if you want."

"I don't know about that . . . I've already dealt with a number of things I didn't expect," Sherlock said. "Maybe tomorrow . . . I just want to prepare. I want her to like me. Or at least not hate me." He smiled feebly.

"She won't hate you. In fact, it might make everything a little bit easier," he said.

"John Watson, my presence rarely makes anything easier," Sherlock said. "You should know that by now." When the food came, Sherlock decided to change the subject. "So your exams . . . are you stressed? We keep talking about family and the future, but we need to get through the end of term."

"I'm not stressed. I've studied so much over the year that I think if I just look over everything to refresh I will be okay. What about you?" he asked, taking the change of subject.

"I'm fine, none of it matters really," Sherlock said dismissively. "Okay, I'm not trying to make you anxious -- let's just make sure we spend some time studying instead of all this other stuff."  
  
John assured Sherlock that he was not feeling anxious but agreed they should focus on school. He pushed his plate forward so they could finish their lunch and when they left John went home to pick up his books, heading back to Sherlock's room to study. They alternated between reading and kissing and John found this was a much better way of studying than being in his own in a noisy cafe. When he couldn't take in another word, he flopped down on Sherlock's bed and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I feel like I am really ready," he said. 

"Good," Sherlock said. He closed up his own book and turned around in his chair. "I liked hearing your little mumbles," he said. He glanced up at the clock. "I don't think you should sleep here tonight," he said quietly. "You should go home."

John was smiling over at Sherlock until he said his next line. He felt the smile fading and his stomach turned to ice. "I . . . um . . .okay. Yeah," he heard himself saying. He stood and started packing up his things. 

"Hey," Sherlock said, sliding his chair over and grabbing his arm. "It's because we need to focus on classes -- that's all." He looked up at him. "Can't you see how weird this is for me -- before this all happened, you saw me, you knew I was always on my own. But now I just . . . want to be with you all the time. But we both have work and this is it for you, John -- I can't . . . I don't want to be the thing that takes your eyes off the prize for even a second." He stroked John's arm. "That's all, okay?"

John looked over at Sherlock. He didn't understand why Sherlock couldn't relax more about things. But as he looked at Sherlock's face, into his eyes, he realised it didn't matter -- Sherlock was probably right. Just because they were dating didn't mean they have to spend every single second together.

"That's okay, Sherlock. I understand." He smiled and leaned in to kiss his mouth softly. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, shouldering his bag. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "Maybe text me when you get into bed?" he added as John headed out. Sherlock took a book over to the bed and lay down. He felt like he could smell John there, and he wished he still were -- he even thought for a moment about texting him to tell him to come back. But Sherlock's real reason for sending John home was John's mum. He worried that the more John was gone, the more she'd blame Sherlock and he didn't want that to happen. He couldn't let anything ruin this.

When John got home he sat on the sofa and watched the news with his mum for a bit. They didn't talk until they got up and headed for bed. "I'd like you to meet Sherlock," he said as they climbed the stairs. 

"Sherlock?"

"My boyfriend -- the one I have been spending time with," John reminded her. She paused on the stairs and looked at him without answering. "I'm not Harry," he said softly. "I have dreams. I have a goal that I want to accomplish. You know that. You've always known I'd be leaving at some point."

"John," she sighed heavily. "I know you would have. I want you to succeed but your sister --"

"-- Is an adult and there's nothing we can do about her choices. We tried to be there for her, but we can't . . . I can't put everything on hold to be dragging her out of pubs."

She stepped down and then hugged him. "Bring your boyfriend over for dinner tomorrow." She walked away and up to her own room while John went to get ready for bed. When he climbed in he pulled his phone out. 

_Mum wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow. -JW_  

Sherlock read the text. Before responding he put his work away, got ready for bed and then climbed in. He took a deep breath.

_Okay. SH_

_I know it sounds like a huge deal, but it's really not. It'll just be the three of us and she's pretty cool. We talked a bit more tonight and things are a little better. -JW_

_I'll try, John. I promise. You are so important to me. SH_

Sherlock stared at the words for a few moments. It was a bit more . . . just more than the kind of thing he usually said. But, he knew, it was also true. He hit send. 

John flushed lightly and curled up under the covers.

_You're really important to me too. -JW_

_I have very strong feelings for you. SH_

John bit his lip.

_I have really strong feelings for you, too. -JW_

_I'm trying to tell you something. Do you understand? SH_

Now Sherlock bit his lip as well.

_I think I do. I think I'm saying the same thing. -JW_

Sherlock realised he had been holding his breath, and now he let out a long exhale. 

_Good. Good night, John. SH_

_Good night, Sherlock. - JW_


	12. Dinner At John's House

In the morning, Sherlock immediately felt nervous about the dinner. He knew John had said it'd be okay, but he still felt nervous. He showered and got dressed and then worried he'd got ready too early. He laid down on his bed and tried to study as he waited to hear from John.

When John woke up he remembered the conversation from the night before and grinned happily. "He loves me," he murmured softly to himself. He got up and started to get ready, going into the kitchen to find his mum.

_She wants to know what your favourite dish is. -JW_

Sherlock read the text. That wasn't good.

_Just pick whatever you'll eat just in case I can't eat mine. SH_

_She just wanted to make sure she made something you like. -JW_

_I'm bad at liking things. Food, I mean. She shouldn't make anything special. SH_

John sighed softly and told his mum to stick to Italian.

_I can't wait to see you. -JW_

_I can't wait to see you either. I'm nervous. SH_

_I am a little bit too, only because I want you to be happy and have a good time. -JW_

_I want her to like me. SH_

_She already does. -JW_

_She doesn't even know me, John. Don't be stupid. SH_

_She knows you make me happy and that's what matters. -JW_

_Do I really though? How? SH_

_You make me smile. You make me feel good and happy. You kiss me. -JW_

_I thought about that last night. SH_

_Making me happy? Or kissing me? -JW_

_Kissing. SH_

_I think about it a lot. -JW_

_Do you only do it with me? SH_

Sherlock hesitated before sending it. He wanted the answer, but he was also afraid of the answer.

_Ever since I met you, yes. -JW_

Sherlock was pretty sure he was smiling. He rolled over on his side.

_I think I might spend some time thinking about kissing you right now. SH_

John left the kitchen and headed back to his room.

_Oh? I suppose I should pencil it in as well. -JW_

Sherlock wasn't sure if John was serious.

_Don't let her know -- she'll think I'm a pervert. SH_

_What? Of course I won't! It's our secret. -JW_

_But she knows we're more than friends? SH_

_Yes. -JW_  
  
_Are you really going to? SH_

_Think about kissing you? -JW_

_You know what I mean. SH_

He wasn't sure if John was really going to do it, but he got up and locked the door before lying on the bed again, letting his hand rest on his lap.

_I will. -JW_

_What will you think about? SH_

_Everything we have been doing. -JW_

_I'll think about that as well. SH_

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought about it. He loved kissing John like that.

_I feel really warm when I feel your erection on my leg. -JW_

John reached into his pants to feel his own now.

Sherlock smiled. That was kind of a weird thing to say, but Sherlock had never done anything like this so maybe it wasn't weird.

_I like that too. SH_

_It feels good. I like making you feel good. -JW_

Sherlock slipped his hands into his pants. He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered the times they'd kissed on this bed. Then he thought of other things.

_All I want to do is make you feel good. SH_

Sherlock was stroking himself fast now. He squeezed his eyes shut and then came.

_I did it. I mean I'm done. SH_

John put the phone down and focused, imagining the two of them in the flat, kissing and then having sex. Soon he came into his pants, panting softly.

_Me too. -JW_

_You are such a pervert, John Watson. SH_

_Only because you are too! -JW_

_You've turned me into one. Stop thinking about that business now. When am I supposed to come for dinner? SH_

_It was your idea. And you should come around five. -JW_

_Okay. I'm going to have to shower again. Send me the address. SH_

John smiled and sent the address to Sherlock, getting up to clean up and change his clothes. As the time got closer, he went down to help his mum finish up and set the table.

Sherlock took another shower and got dressed again. He headed off early, stopping at a shop to get some flowers, which seemed like the kind of thing that should be done to get someone's mother on side. He made sure he arrived on John's doorstep exactly on time. He took a deep breath as he waited.

John went to answer the door, grinning when he saw Sherlock and the flowers. "Hi. Come in," he said, moving aside.

"I brought these, I hope that's okay," Sherlock said. He stepped inside and then whispered, "What am I supposed to call your mum?"

"Mrs Watson," John said, not taking the flowers so Sherlock could give them himself. "Or Susan. She won't mind," he said as he led him to the kitchen.

Sherlock took another deep breath. For a moment, he thought maybe he should turn around and leave. But then he looked over at John. He loved John and never wanted to be without him and that meant meeting his mother. He'd decide what to call her based on how she introduced herself. He could do this.

"Oh! Hello dear," she said, coming over and hugging him tightly. She took the flowers and went to find a vase. "It's Sherlock, right?"

"Yes, it's Sherlock," Sherlock said stupidly. He tried to smile.

"Come sit down, the lasagna is almost ready. John said you liked Italian. Tell me a little bit about yourself," she smiled, bustling around the kitchen to get things ready.

John led Sherlock to one of the chairs, smiling and squeezing his hand.

Sherlock sat down. His first thought was that he hoped he could serve himself so he could take a small piece and then be sure that he could eat it all. He was going to eat whatever he was given, even if it killed him. Then he thought about John touching his hand, which he hoped was okay with the mother. Then he remembered she'd asked him something so he said, "I'm a year behind John in school. I study chemistry."

"Oh! Science interest like John," she smiled. She pulled the lasagna out of the oven.

"Mum, make sure his piece is smaller, he doesn't eat much."

"Sure dear," she said distractedly, cutting out pieces.

"You don't have to eat it all, I promise," John smiled.

"Are you going to be a doctor too?" she asked Sherlock.

"Um, no," Sherlock said. "I'm not . . . I work better on my own, I think. Maybe a researcher. I've got a summer job doing research for a professor."

"Oh, that sounds very nice," she said. She brought the food to the table and sat down herself. "Dig in then."

John served himself and made conversation about school and working, staying away from the moving for now.

Sherlock listened carefully to everything that was said. He didn't say anything about the flat and certainly nothing about John's moving in. He remembered to say that the food was good and it was, though he couldn't eat as much as John did. When it was over, he offered to help with the washing up, which is something he'd never volunteered to do in his own house.

Susan didn't let Sherlock help, insisting he sit with John instead. When everything cleared she brought the flowers to the table and then served tea and biscuits. "So Sherlock, how did you two meet? John hasn't told me much," she smiled.

Sherlock glanced over at John, not sure precisely how much to say. "We were at the cafe," he said. "Studying. And we had to share a table."

"How sweet," she grinned. "Well, you're welcome over any time. Day or night."

"Mum!"

"Oh hush. He let you spend the night, I just want him to known he can stay here, too."

"Oh my god. We are going for a walk," John said, tugging Sherlock's arm so he would follow to the door.

Sherlock didn't know what to say about any of that, so he just followed John as they walked.

"Sorry about that," John said, his cheeks still flushed lightly. He led Sherlock around the house and to the back garden, sitting at the patio set.

"About what? I thought she was just being nice," Sherlock said, sitting down next to him.

"She is, I know. But it was embarrassing," he said. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky.

Sherlock sat quietly for a moment. "She seems very nice, John," he said. "I can see why you want to look after her."

"We talked about my moving that night that I came home," John said, still looking up. "She is open to it because she finally admitted I'm not like Harry.”

"You're not like Harry," Sherlock said, reaching over and fiddling with John's sleeve. "You're a handsome pervert," he added a little more quietly.

John grinned and couldn't help laughing softly. "That's why I love you," he said without thinking. For a second he tensed, worried he'd said too much but then . . . didn't they technically say it last night? He let out his breath and waited to see if he had scared Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He looked out over the garden. "It's nice here," he said. "Thanks for having me over for dinner."

John opened his mouth and then closed it, looking out at the garden too. "I'm glad you came over. I told you she would like you."

Sherlock looked over and smiled. “Do you have an exam tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah. They start proper, one every day." And then school would be over and they would have all of summer, long days to spend together without worrying about curfews and alarms. "When does your research job start?"

"Well, I guess in about two weeks," Sherlock said. "It sounds like most of it will be kind of whenever I want to work, rather than certain days. Unless he needs something specific, I guess." He slipped his hand into John's. "So no sleepovers until Friday, do you think?"

John rubbed his thumb over Sherlock's knuckles. "Well, Mum said you're more than welcome anytime but . . . it might be awkward this time around," he smiled.

"No, I didn't mean here, I guess," Sherlock said. "I meant, none at all -- so you can study." They were quiet for a while. Finally, Sherlock said, "I hope I don't ruin things . . . before or after you move in."

John looked over at him. "What are you worried about, Sherlock?"

"You know…" Sherlock said. "I mean, now you mainly see me at my best, which isn't always that great, but I'm not always at my best."

"What's your worst?" John asked softly, looking over at him.

"Silence," Sherlock said honestly without thinking too much about it. "And boredom. And worry."

"Well, I think I can handle those things. Now that I know, it'll be okay." John smiled and kissed his cheek quickly.

"I knew you'd say that," Sherlock said. "I hope you still feel that way in a few months."

"No one is perfect," John said. "We can just talk about any problems. We'll be okay."

Sherlock hoped he was right but still worried he wasn't. "Let's go back inside and see you mum again," he said.

"All right," John smiled, standing and keeping a hold of his hand as they walked inside again.

"You're back, eh?" Susan smiled, putting the food away now and cleaning up. "Did you enjoy the walk?"

"We sat in back," Sherlock said. "You've got a lovely garden, Mrs Watson."

"Thank you, Sherlock. John's father and I used to keep it up and now I do as a sort of memorial. It's a lovely way to remember," she smiled. With that she started telling funny stories about John while he tried to make her stop, hiding his face in Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock listened. In many ways John's family was pretty normal -- they had normal memories and inside jokes. This meant it really was Harry that was the problem, not the family itself. It was still so unusual that he know found himself a part of this world, but he did his best to relax and enjoy it.

"All right, that's enough," John laughed. "I think Sherlock has heard enough."

"It's always good to know these things, I think," Sherlock said, playfully. "In case I ever need to use them against you." He pushed John's arm lightly.

"See what you did?" he teased his mum and she only laughed harder. John smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand. It had been a long while since he'd seen her laugh like that.

Sherlock moved a little in his chair. "Well, thank you both for your hospitality. The food was delicious -- it's been a long time since I had a home cooked meal. But I should probably go now. Both John and I have exams tomorrow, so we both need good night's sleep," he said.

Susan stood and hugged Sherlock again, thanking him for coming over. John walked him out to the porch. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "You could come in . . . for a few minutes." He squeezed John's hand. "Tell her you'll be back in an hour or so."

John nodded, heading back in to get the keys. "I'm going to drive Sherlock home, I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay, John," she smiled.

John flushed lightly and hurried out of the house. "Ready?"

As soon as they got into the car, Sherlock buckled up and then turned his body to John. He slipped a hand to John's thigh and leaned to kiss his neck. "Drive safely, but hurry," he said.

John moaned softly and nodded, hurrying towards Sherlock's. He braked a bit hard and shut the car off, turning to kiss Sherlock.

"Come on inside," Sherlock said, quickly getting out of the car. He pulled John along, struggling to get his door unlocked. Once inside, he turned and grabbed John, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him hard.

John gripped his clothes tightly, returning the kiss hungrily.

Sherlock rubbed his hands on John's back and then moved them to the front, opening his trousers. He got down on his knees and pulled out John's cock, covering it with soft kisses.

"Oh!" John gasped, falling back against the door and gripping Sherlock's shoulder. "Sherlock," he moaned, sliding his hand into his hair.

Sherlock moved his lips around John's tip, swirling his tongue before sucking softly as he took more of him into his mouth. He used a hand to hold John's leg, gripping the back of his thigh.

Heat spiked through John's spine, straight up into his frazzled brain. He had been expecting a make out session or heavy thrusting again but not this. "Oh god, Sherlock," he moaned.

Sherlock pulled off of John, using his hand instead as he kissed John's thigh and then up his body to his mouth. "Please," Sherlock said. "I want to make you come." He kissed him again.

John panted softly, nodding as he gazed at Sherlock. "Should I touch you now? Together?"

"Whatever you want but hurry," Sherlock huffed. "I'm already close just from doing this."

John did just that, his fingers scrambling and fumbling to pull the zip and button open. He pulled Sherlock's hard cock out and used the precome to move his hand quickly and smoothly over Sherlock.

Sherlock squeezed shut his eyes and let his hips rock against John's hand as he continued to stroke him. "God, John," he moaned. "Don't stop." Sherlock let out a loud moan and then felt his body tense and suddenly he was coming into John's hand.

John swore softly before following, calling out as he came as well. He thought he heard someone in the hall hollering obnoxiously, but he didn't care. He was breathing heavily, panting Sherlock's name.  

Sherlock pulled him closer. "God, John," Sherlock panted. "You're . . . so much . . ."

"So much is good, right?" John asked.

"It's just so . . . much . . . how I feel and how you make me feel," Sherlock said, taking a small step back and zipping up. His legs felt a little wobbly. "Let's sit down," he said, pulling John towards the bed.

John zipped up as well and sat beside him.

Sherlock looked over. "Will we be okay, John? Am I . . . too much?" he asked softly.

"What? No," he said. "It's all good, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked over at him and smiled before giving him a little kiss. "I wish you were sleeping over, even though I know you shouldn't."

John smiled up at him. "I wish I could as well but like you said, the exams are important and they will be over before we know it." He leaned up and kissed Sherlock once more. "Can I clean up before I go?"

"Of course," Sherlock said. "Don't go home stinking of sex stuff or she'll hate me for sure." He pointed to the tissue box and the flannel hanging on the hook by the door.

"I'm going to nip into the bathroom," John said, moving around Sherlock. He used water and a bit of soap to clean off. He doubted he smelled like 'sex stuff' but just in case the soap would help hide it. When he came back out he smiled and leaned up to kiss Sherlock again. "Thanks again for coming over for dinner."

"Thanks for coming over here and . . . you know," Sherlock said. "I thought your mum was nice. I'm glad you invited me. I'll talk to you in the morning before your exam."

John leaned up and kissed him again before leaving. He drove home very happily, ignored his mum's teasing and hurried up to bed. He studied for an hour then set his alarm, thinking about Sherlock as he fell asleep.


	13. Exam Week

In the morning, Sherlock was up early. He showered and got his stuff ready. When it seemed like a reasonable time, he sent John a quick text.

_Good luck on your exam. I know you're do well. SH_

_Thank you. You too! Want to meet after for lunch? -JW_

_Okay. How about Angelo's so it's quieter? SH_

_Perfect. Going in now. See you soon. -JW_  
  
John turned his phone off and hurried into the class, sitting down for his first exam of the week. It was anatomy, and he was very confident about it.

Sherlock walked into campus. He finished his exam quickly, read it over, and then turned it in. He headed off to Angelo's, telling him that John would be coming later and just getting a cup of tea for now. He set his phone on the table, waiting to hear from John.

The exam was actually harder than John had expected -- there was a lot more detail -- but he was also prepared so when he left he still felt good.  
  
_On my way. -JW_

Sherlock relaxed when he saw John's text. He wasn't sure if this was one of those he should respond to, so just in case, he sent a quick one.

_I'm here. SH_

John smiled and picked up his pace, grinning when he saw Sherlock in the window. He hurried inside and sat the table with Sherlock. "How was yours?"

"As expected," Sherlock said. "How about yours?"

"Tougher than expected," he smiled. "But I feel good about it."

"Good," Sherlock said. "I knew you could do it. One down, four to go." Angelo came over with menus and water. "Get whatever you want," Sherlock said to John. "My treat."

John looked over the menu. "We should properly celebrate this weekend. Some of the boys on the rugby team are going to have a party if you want," he said. "I know that's not your usual scene, or mine really, so it's up to you what we do. We can do anything."

"I'd hate that," Sherlock said bluntly.

John blinked at the suddenness of the phrase. "Oh. Well, like I said, we can do anything," he said. He was glad Sherlock could be honest but he hadn't even taken a minute to think about it. Maybe he could ask again later.

Sherlock called Angelo over and just told him to bring whatever he had extra of. John ordered chicken Parmesan and a small salad as well. "So what's your next exam?"

"Statistics," Sherlock said. "Boring really -- not the concept but the actual work they make you do. Pointless. Let's not talk about classes." He took a drink of water. "Do you still think I should take that flat even though my brother had something to do with it?" he asked.

"Have you talked to him about it at all?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock said. "I'm talking to you about it."

"No, not about whether you should take it or not. I just meant if you spoke to him about his involvement."

"No," Sherlock admitted. "He and I don't speak anymore unless we have to."

John could see Sherlock didn't want to talk about this, so he said, "I thought it was a really nice flat and she is giving us a very good deal. Didn't you like it?"

"Yeah . . . I did," Sherlock said. "Do you really think that you might want to live there with me, when you're ready, I mean?"

John nodded. "I am sure -- I would live with you anywhere but that one . . . it's really good."

"How do you know? Have you been in a lot of guys' flats?" Sherlock asked. "Wait -- don't answer." Just then Angelo brought the food and Sherlock turned his attention to that instead.

"I haven't been in anyone's," John said as he pulled his plate closer.

"I don't want to know about other people, John," Sherlock said. "If I ever ask again, don't answer, okay?" He took a bite of food.

John didn't understand. He hadn't said anything bad and yet Sherlock seemed annoyed with him. It wasn't like he had gone into deep details about a previous relationship. "Well, why ask me then?" he grumbled.

"I won't," Sherlock said. "I'm just saying if I do, accidentally or something, don't answer." He looked over at him. "Why do you have that weird look on your face?"

"What look?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock again, trying to appear neutral.

"Well, you look normal now," Sherlock said. "Don't be angry with me, okay? I'm sorry . . . I shouldn't have brought it up."

"I'm not angry," John said, and he really meant it. "I just . . . didn't think it was so serious. Sorry."

"It's not -- forget I said anything," Sherlock said. He would have to be more careful about what he said. "Your food okay?"

John reached out and touched Sherlock's hand lightly before nodding. "It's really good," he said. "I really like it here."

"Me too," Sherlock said. "I'm glad we could have lunch together. Maybe we should meet for an hour each day, you know, as a reward but without being together too long to get distracted from work." He glanced up at John and thought about what he'd done to him yesterday and felt his stomach twitch a little. He stopped thinking about it before he started contradicting himself and insisting that John come back to his room.

John nodded. "Only an hour will be hard, but I will keep thinking about the hours together after this week," he smiled.

That was the kind of thing Sherlock liked hearing. "Yeah, that will be good, but I'm trying not to think about it too much. As you know, you have a way of easily making me do things."

"Me?" John laughed. "I don't think so."

"You have some kind of bizarre control over me . . ." Sherlock said. It did feel a little like that, and he hoped that was okay.

John laughed. "Just because I am irresistibly sexy -- well, I can't control that," he said.

"That's why I have to limit my time around you. See? It all makes sense," Sherlock said.

John grinned and shook his head. "Well, just wait until this week is over."

"That sounds like a threat," Sherlock laughed. "Don't be menacing."

"Not menacing! Just . . . excited," he said, thinking about what they had done in Sherlock's room.

"Well, don't get 'excited' now because when you do, I do, and I want Angelo to respect me, you know," Sherlock said.

"Not that kind of excited!" John shook his head, still grinning. "Never mind."

Sherlock grinned back. They finished their lunches and headed their separate ways after a quick kiss goodbye.

They kept up this schedule for the remainder of the week -- good night and good morning texts, lunch or dinner once the exams were done for the day. Sherlock was continually tempted to suggest a sleep over, but he did his best to be mature and sensible. Getting through the exam week was much easier for John with the Sherlock intervals and the prospect of them being free to have more than an hour together when it was all finished. His mind had started wandering to what they were going to be doing, resulting in a couple frustrating nights where he was forced to take care of things on his own. The party only came up one other time -- only because Greg sent John a text while Sherlock and he were heading to lunch. Sherlock still didn't seem interested so John didn't press it, but he made a note to try again on a different day. When he graduated he wouldn't see a lot of these people again so it would be nice to have one final get together. 

On Thursday afternoon, Sherlock, as he was coming out of his exam, bumped into Jim from the research project. Jim still seemed quite 'keen' on being friendly with Sherlock, which only annoyed him. He wasn't quite sure, but Sherlock just felt in his bones something was off about this guy. Jim rabbited on about the same kind of boring stuff he talked about at the cafe. Sherlock tuned out most of it. Then he heard Jim say, "See you next week" so he knew the conversation must be over. He headed out to meet John.

At lunch, John brought up the Friday exam and what their plans would be afterwards. "So, my exam is over at two, what about yours? Are we meeting right away or later in the night like a proper dinner date?" He had been keeping his mum up to date on which exams were over and had told her that he would be staying over at Sherlock's again Friday night. It was embarrassing but to his surprise she was quite happy, admitting they had both proven to be very mature and responsible by putting their school work first.

"I thought you were going to some party," Sherlock said. He had tried to ignore it for most of the week, but it was bothering him. He really didn't want to go, but he knew he would if John wanted him to.

"Not without you," John said. "That's not until Saturday anyway."

"John --" Sherlock started then stopped. "Let's decide about tomorrow first. Let's go out for dinner in the evening and then maybe you can sleep over? It might be quieter since some students will be leaving."

"I'll pack a bag tonight when I go home so I can come right over."

"Where should we go for dinner? Or we could even order in and eat it in my room -- whatever you want to do."

"Somewhere a little fancy for the celebration," he smiled. "My treat."

"That's nice of you. All right," Sherlock said. "But not too expensive -- we can't spend all our money, you know, if we're going to paying rent." He ate a bit of his lunch, wondering if he was going to start putting weight on since eating seemed to be such a part of their relationship.

"I know, but I have all summer to start saving up," John said.

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Do you want to pick a place? I feel like you should since you care more about food and are paying. Just check some places out and surprise me tomorrow, yeah?"

"Okay," he smiled. "I can surprise you." He went back to his meal, his mind on tomorrow.

Once lunch was over, they kissed goodbye and headed to their separate homes for one last night of studying. In the morning Sherlock made sure he left some extra time to tidy up his room. He also put his extra pair of sheets on the bed, which he then felt a little guilty and stupid for doing. He headed off to his exam and was so glad when it was finally over.

The last exam was the hardest one for John to get through. John packed his bag for a couple nights before leaving, letting his mum know as he heading out. He texted Sherlock the address of the restaurant.

_I don't have the car so we can meet there. -JW_

Sherlock had already showered and changed by the time he got John's text. He immediately headed out. As he was walking, though, he realised he should let John know he got the text.

_I'm on my way. I'll see you soon. SH_


	14. Celebration

John arrived to the restaurant first and he waited for Sherlock, putting one of the flowers on his plate while he waited.

Sherlock found the restaurant, which looked nice, and walked in to find John. He spontaneously smiled -- John looked so handsome. "You look handsome," he said as he sat down. "You look like a college graduate."

"Thanks. You're handsome as well," he said. "That flower is for you."

"That's quite . . . sweet, John Watson. Are you going to be extra sweet to me tonight?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes I will," he smiled. "Order whatever you like."

"Does that mean I have to be extra sweet to you?" Sherlock asked, looking over the menu.

"If you want to," he smiled.

"I'll think about it," Sherlock said, smiling. He looked at the menu again. "Is sweet the opposite of sexy or could one be both?" he asked without looking up.

"You can be both," he chuckled. "Is that what you're planning?"

"No plan," Sherlock said. "I was just curious." He closed his menu. He did have a plan. Well, sort of.

When the waiter came John let Sherlock order first, then said his own and handed the menu over. "So what do you think about this place?"

"It's really nice, John," Sherlock said, looking around. "And there's no students," he added, motioning with his head. "Do you think those two are here on business or have they got, you know, something going on?"  
  
John glanced over and studied them for a moment. "I think they are just friends," he decided.

"When people look at us, do you think they think we're just friends?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't think so because we look at each other different than they do," John said. "And we touch or hold hands a lot more."

"So we look like we've got something going on?" Sherlock asked. "What is it exactly that we've got going on, John?" He reached over and held John's hand.

"You know what," he smiled, lacing their fingers. "You know what we feel."

Sherlock glanced down at the table. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I know what you're talking about." He lifted his glass to his mouth and took a sip of water. He looked around to make sure the waiter wasn't over, and then he asked, "Do you like the things we, you know, do?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I do. Do you like them?"

"Yes, I do, John," Sherlock said." He glanced around again. “Do you think you would like to do . . . other things with me, like . . . more?"

John flushed lightly, but he also felt the heat in his belly and groin as well. He nodded. "I would. I admit that I have been thinking about it," he said. "I've been thinking about it all week actually."

"I've thought about it, too," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry for bringing it up . . . maybe it's weird. But I just . . . like to know what's going on, I guess. And you know some of this isn't my strong point so I just wanted to make sure I wasn't getting it wrong . . ." His voice trailed off, and he was a bit embarrassed by his honesty.

"Don't be sorry for bringing it up," he said. "Were you thinking about tonight as well or another night?"

Sherlock smiled cheekily. "I've been thinking about it pretty much every night since our first 'date'." He added the air quotes and laughed a little.

John grinned wider. "Well, I have some . . . supplies in my bag. I didn't know -- I just wanted to be prepared," he said. 

"Well, then we are doubly prepared," Sherlock said, grinning back. The waiter appeared then, and Sherlock felt his face flush a bit. He was silent as the food was served, but as the soon as the waiter left, he laughed a little. "Do you think he knows what we were talking about?"

"If my cheeks are red like yours than probably," he smiled, squeezing Sherlock's hand before starting on his meal. "But this is a romantic restaurant so he is probably used to it," he added. 

Sherlock took a small bite of food. "It's good," he said because it was. "If this place is so romantic, why do you think those two came here if they're just friends?" he asked.

"Maybe they really like the food. Just because the place is romantic doesn't mean everyone had to use it as such," he said. 

"Do you know them?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"What? Know who?" John asked. "The people you pointed out?"

"I was just wondering how you got to be sure about their private business," Sherlock said. He looked over at the confusion on John's face. "Forget it. I don't know why I keep mentioning them."

"I was just guessing," John said. "I thought it was a game." His brow was furrowed. He went back to his meal, the silence a bit awkward now.

"John," Sherlock said. "Please -- be normal even when I'm not, okay? I'm sorry."

John didn't understand what that meant so he didn't reply. "Do you like your dinner? I feel like I like Angelo's better," he smiled softly.

"It's good," Sherlock said. "I like it here. But it's cheaper at Angelo's," he added, trying to lighten the mood.

"That's true, and he makes much better food. But it's not bad here. It's fancy," he smiled.

"It is," Sherlock said. "I guess when you're a doctor, you'll be splashing out on places like this all the time."

John shook his head. "I won't get all . . . high maintenance," he smiled.

"Well, if I'm still around, I'll be happy to take the financial benefits of your chosen career," Sherlock said.

"I hope you're still around," John said.

"I hope you haven't got sick of me by then," Sherlock said.

"I doubt it. I feel like the more I learn about you, the more I like you."

Sherlock pulled a skeptical face. "Well, we'll see," he said. "The more I know you, the more I like you."

"Sounds like we'll be just fine," John smiled as he finished his meal.

Sherlock smiled. "Do you want dessert? Or should we head to mine now?"

"We can go. I don't want to overdo it," he smiled. He pulled his wallet out and waved the waiter over to pay.

When the waiter came over, Sherlock smirked at him as John paid. When he left, Sherlock said, "I wanted him to know you were my boyfriend."

John smiled. When the waiter came back with the leftovers boxed, John took the bag. "My boyfriend and I had a great time. This is a nice place." He gave John a confused look and walked off after thanking them.

Sherlock pushed John's arm and laughed. They headed towards the door. He looped his arm through John's. He thought about kissing when they got back. He glanced over at him and smiled.

John noticed. "What are you thinking about?"

"Sex," Sherlock said frankly.

John blinked rapidly. "Really?"

"Well, it started with kissing but . . . I was thinking of other stuff as well," Sherlock said. "I thought that was okay. Is it?"

"Does that mean you want to do it tonight?" John asked.

"Well, maybe," Sherlock said. "Maybe I'll be over it by the time we get back," he teased.

"I'll get you back on it," he smiled.

"Hmm . . . I can't tell if that was meant to be menacing or sexy. I think it's a little bit of both," Sherlock said.

"Do you like both?" John asked. "Should I tone down the menacing?"

"I just like whatever you do," Sherlock said.

When they got to the residence hall, there were still people about, many of them moving out for the summer. Sherlock pulled John through and unlocked his room, shutting the door quickly behind them. "Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked, as he kicked off his shoes to get a bit more comfortable.

"Sure, that sounds good," John said, sitting on Sherlock's bed.

Sherlock turned the kettle on and got the mugs ready. He moved over and turned on the radio to some soft music, before bringing the mugs over to the bed. "Thanks for a nice dinner," he said, handing John his tea. He settled in next to him.

"Yes, it was very nice," John smiled, sipping on his tea. The music was soothing, because he was starting to feel a little nervous.

Sherlock took a sip of tea. It was weirdly still, and it felt a little odd all of a sudden. "Hey," he said a little more abruptly than he meant to. "Should we bring a film up on the computer or something?" 

"Yes, good idea," John said, jumping on the idea. It would be nice to have the idea of a distraction so there would be less pressure.

Sherlock opened his laptop and passed it over to John. "You pick," he said. He got more comfortable on the bed, setting his mug on the bedside table and lying down a bit.

John looked online for a bit and found a comedy, leaning back to cuddle with Sherlock. 

"You know if we're going to live together," Sherlock said softly as he wrapped his arm around John. "We won't be able to have 'dates' all the time . . . it'll just be normal. I just feel a little nervous tonight since this isn't our normal…but I hope it will be one day. Just coming home and being together, I mean…I don't know what I'm saying, I guess." He leaned over and gave John a little kiss.

"I'm a little nervous as well because I want that, too, but at the moment, it took everything for me to not just jump you the minute we walked through that door. It's kind of all I can think about," John admitted. There. It was out now. 


	15. Sex

Sherlock turned his body to face John. He put a hand on his arm and leaned in and kissed his hips, soft at first and then a bit harder. He moved even closer against him.

John hummed softly and kissed him back, bringing his hand up to hold his cheek, holding him close. 

"I want you to, John," Sherlock said quietly, moving his hand to John's lower back. He slid one of his legs between John's.

John moved his leg to take Sherlock's, using it to move closer to him and press their bodies flush. He kissed him harder, holding his hair softly. 

Sherlock arched himself against John. He exhaled from the kiss and then pulled back a little. "Can I take off my shirt?" he asked, already beginning to unbutton it.

John nodded. "I'll take mine off too," he murmured, pulling his own over his head. He couldn't stop looking at Sherlock.

"Don't be nervous," Sherlock told John, and himself as well. He lay back down and put his hands on John's waistband. "Actually let's take these off as well . . . we can get under the blanket." He moved to open John's trousers.

"I'm not nervous anymore," John said, lifting so his clothes would come off more easily. He worked at Sherlock's, trying to get the covers up at the same time.

Once they were both naked, Sherlock set the laptop on the floor, still letting the film play. He slipped under the cover next to John, pulling their bodies close again. He began kissing John's mouth -- soft and slow.

John put his hand on Sherlock's face as they kissed but slowly he wandered, sliding his fingertips lightly along Sherlock's shoulders and chest. 

Sherlock's skin tickled lightly as John touched him, even though he was also starting to feel warm all over. "God, this is good," he exhaled and looked straight at John. He pulled John over him and kissed him again, a little harder this time.

John returned the kiss before moving down to kiss his neck, sucking the skin softly as he moved lower and lower. His fingers teased at Sherlock's nipple lightly, his own body steadily heating. 

Sherlock kissed him back. He slipped his hand down and held John's cock, before starting to slowly stroke him.

John rolled into his hand, kissing even lower and putting his mouth over the other nipple, sucking and biting it lightly. 

"That's good," Sherlock mumbled as John's mouth moved on him. He stretched his arm to keep a hold of John, still stroking. "Do you like this?" he asked, looking up at John's face.

John looked down and nodded. "I do," he said before moving lower, kissing over his belly and hips. "Is the stuff close?" 

"In the drawer," Sherlock said, nodding towards the bedside table. "It's all okay? I…I want to…"

John moved to get the supplies from the drawer. He crawled back down and opened the lube, slicking his hand and rubbing between Sherlock's legs from his balls and down to his entrance. 

"Yes…" Sherlock said in a soft moan. He moved his hand to his own cock, just holding it and closing his eyes and focusing on John's touch.

"I want to as well," John said, kissing Sherlock's hip as he gently pushed his finger into Sherlock. 

"God," Sherlock exhaled. He took a few deep breaths as he adjusted. "John," he said the name aloud and the last month's memories passed through his head -- that first day at the cafe, the park, the car, the film, the flat. He opened his eyes and looked down at him. He smiled lightly as his hips rocked a bit with John's movement.

John kept kissing Sherlock's hips and thighs, easing a second finger in as he whispered praises softly.

Sherlock let his head push back against the pillow as he relaxed into John's actions. His hand on his cock began to stroke himself a little as his whole body filled with excitement.

John poured a bit more lube as he stretched his fingers, easing Sherlock open. He rubbed his own groin into the mattress. Slowly, he moved up to three fingers.

Sherlock's hips and hands were moving steadily now. "John," he moaned. "I'm ready . . . please."

John nodded, pressing one more kiss before easing his fingers out. He sat up and quickly rolled on the condom, moving over Sherlock and lining up carefully. He made sure to meet Sherlock's eyes before slowly pressing in.

Sherlock reached over his hands and pulled John's body down towards him. He did his best to relax his body, adjusting. His hands moved around John's back and he whispered, "Move into me."

John nodded, kissing his mouth softly as he pushed all the way in, and then very slowly started to move out again. It was hot and tight, and John was shaking with effort to stay still.

Sherlock lifted his hips to meet John. He leaned up and kissed him. His hands lowered to John's arse, pushing, encouraging him to move more.

John followed his lead and moved with him, his hips thrusting in and out of Sherlock.

Sherlock slid his hand in between their bodies, starting to stroke himself again to match John's rhythm. "John," he moaned softly -- wanting to say more but he couldn't even if he had known what to say. "Harder."

John nodded, kissing his mouth again. "M'close," he moaned softly, panting as he moved faster.

Sherlock tried to speak, but it was too late and suddenly all his muscles tightened and he stopped breathing for a second as his cock jerked in his hand, spilling against their bellies.

John gasped at the feeling of Sherlock tightening around him, looking down to see Sherlock spilling over both of them. He swore, letting go and pushing into Sherlock just as he came as well, calling out softly.

Sherlock pulled John towards him again, as they both panted to catch their breath. They were both sweaty and Sherlock knew they'd have to move in just a moment, but for right now, he felt good.

John put a kiss on Sherlock's collarbone.

"Did you like it? I mean, do you think you'll want to do it again . . . with me, I mean, at some point?" Sherlock asked. It felt like a stupid thing to say, but in truth what he really wanted to make John promise to never do it or even think about doing with someone else ever again, and at least Sherlock was smart enough to know that thought was better kept inside his head.

"Of course I will," John mumbled, shifting to gently pull out of Sherlock. He tossed the condom and settled on top of him again. "It felt good."

"It did," Sherlock said, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. "Can you stay the night?" he added. He was pretty sure John would, but for a second, he worried John would leave now.

"Of course I will. That's the plan, remember? I packed my bag and everything," John reminded him softly. John put his head on Sherlock's chest, tucked under his chin as he settled close. 

"Good," Sherlock smiled. "I'm not ready to sleep yet, though. Are you going to go to sleep?"

"Not yet. I just like lying with you like this," John said. His hand was slowly moving up and down Sherlock's side and hip.

"Don't tickle me though," Sherlock said, pushing John's hand away from his side. He moved it to his hip and said, "Here, rub here. Here doesn't tickle."

"Okay," John smiled. "Sorry." He rubbed Sherlock's hip instead.

"Do you not like putting it in your mouth or something?" Sherlock asked. "You don't have to, I mean it, I don't mind."

"What? Where did that come from?" John asked, sitting up a bit to look at him.

"I don't know . . . I'm sorry. It's just that I want to do the things you like so you'll . . . you know," Sherlock said. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this kind of stuff."

"So I'll what?" John asked. "Stay?"

Sherlock rolled a little bit away. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Blow jobs won't be what keeps me here," John said, tugging him so their eyes could meet.

"All right, if you say so," Sherlock said. "But still, you don't have to do it to me if you don't want to. I don't care about things like that."

"Sherlock! I don't -- when did you ask me and I said no?" John asked, completely bewildered. 

"I didn't . . . I just thought you might and you didn't. Don't get angry with me, John, I'm just trying to find out what you like," Sherlock said, turning his head a little. "I just need to know so I don't . . ." 

"Sherlock, stop it," John said. "It's not just about me. I want to do what you like, too. Is that what you want me to do?"

"I liked everything . . . it's not like I was hoping you would and the fact that you didn't ruined things for me -- I promise, John, I didn't mean that," Sherlock said. He turned back and looked at John. "I'm sorry again . . .I don't know what I'm saying."

"I just wanted everything to be good," John said. "You can ask for more and I'll do it for you," he said.

"Fine," Sherlock said, pinching John's arm lightly. "From now on, we can just do whatever we want and then we never have to have a conversation like this again. Let's have a nicer conversation now, please," he added. 

"Okay," John agreed, relieved that Sherlock wasn't upset. He lay down again and continued rubbing his hip. "What about?"

"Will you help me move my things to the flat tomorrow?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes I will," John smiled. "Everything in this room? Is there more at your house?"

"For now just the things here," Sherlock said. "I'll get some things from my parents' whenever I go there next."

"Okay. We can get some take away and move you right in easily."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Do you think you really will move in and some point?"

John licked his lips. He wished Sherlock would believe him. "I would like to."

"I wish you were moving in tomorrow," Sherlock admitted. "I mean, I understand why you want to wait, I just . . . wish you were. Tomorrow I might pretend you are moving in anyway and just convince myself you've gone out for a while," Sherlock said.

John kissed his mouth softly. "Okay, you can pretend I'm away at a conference," he said.

"No, make it be with your family," Sherlock said. "I don't want to think about your being away at some conference."

"I don't want to be thinking I'm away with my family," John smiled softly. "Maybe I can be away tracking down an extravagant gift for you."

"I don't want a gift," Sherlock said. "Besides, you'll be coming to visit, right? I'll just pretend you're at work or something." 

They lay quietly for a bit. "What are we going to do now?" Sherlock asked. "Do you want to go out somewhere or finish watching the film or something?"

John paused his hand before slowly moving it inwards. "I'm . . . kind of still thinking about blow jobs," he said, touching Sherlock's cock lightly.

Sherlock smiled a little. "I knew you were a pervert," he said. He moved his hand to John's back and stroked lightly.

John bit his lip as he smiled, stroking properly slowly. "You mentioned it and now I can't stop thinking about putting you in my mouth."

"Really?" Sherlock said. "You don't have to." He closed his eyes a little and focused on what John was doing.

John started scooting below the covers, slowly making his way down.

"John Watson," Sherlock moaned softly. He lowered his hand and rested it on John's shoulder.

John kissed his belly and moved lower, properly lost under the blankets now. He tilted Sherlock's cock towards his face, licking the tip before taking him into his mouth.

Sherlock exhaled loudly as John took him inside. His legs moved instinctively, but he tried to keep his body as still as possible.

John moved up and down slowly, sliding his lips along the shaft, swirling his tongue over the head and tip.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked, just wanting to be sure.

John hummed around Sherlock and moved a bit faster, taking him deeper to his throat.

Sherlock melted back into the bed. He let his hips rock just a little, feeling the warm, wetness of John's mouth.

John moved faster now, massaging his balls as he sucked on Sherlock.

Sherlock felt his whole body melting and then tensing and then he was arching up and coming, reaching down to grab onto John's shoulder. "God," he called out loudly.

John swallowed around him, pulling up slowly as Sherlock finished, licking him clean.

Sherlock tried to catch his breath. He reached down to pull John up closer to him. "I want to kiss you," he said.

John moved up Sherlock's body and found his mouth in a slightly sloppy kiss.

"Thank you," Sherlock whispered after the kiss. He squeezed him close.

John rolled his hips against Sherlock's thigh. He hadn't come yet, and he was trying to breath through it.

Sherlock felt John against him. "Let me," he said, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around him and beginning a firm, quick stroke.

"Oh," John sighed softly, letting his eyes fall shut.

Sherlock kept moving his hand, watching John's face closely. He leaned up and put a kiss on his mouth.

"It was sexy, what we did," John mumbled, panting more heavily.

"Everything's sexy," Sherlock said. "You're so…good at everything."

John put his hand on Sherlock's face as they kissed but slowly he wandered, sliding his fingertips lightly along Sherlock's shoulders and chest. 

"This is good . . . our friendship," Sherlock said softly. "I'm glad we met, I mean. I just . . . thanks, I guess." He felt his face flush. He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to say actually but this was the best he could do.

John kissed him hard and let go, coming into Sherlock's hand with a soft gasp.

Sherlock held him through his orgasm and then pulled his body tightly to him. It felt so real now -- sharing all of this. It was almost frightening how good it felt.

John pressed breathless kisses onto Sherlock's collarbone where he was buried, wrapping his arm around him again to stay close.

"Let's rest for a little now and then . . . I don't know, we can do something, watch the film or whatever," Sherlock said. "But let's just stay like this for a moment.

"That sounds good," John nodded, tucking into him and letting his eyes close. 

Sherlock started to drift quite quickly and whether it was due to the exhaustion and build up of what had happened between them or just because it was the end of exams week, he fell into a deep sleep. At one point he rolled over in bed and felt John there. He opened his eyes but could see it was almost five, so he just curled into John again and went back to sleep.


	16. Moving Day

The next time he woke it was properly morning so he nudged John and said, "John, we should get up. We've got to meet that Mrs Hudson in an hour."

John gasped as if they were late before processing Sherlock's words and closing his eyes again for a moment. "Okay," his said softly, not moving yet.

Sherlock smiled at John's sleepy face. "You slept over again," he said softly.

John smiled even though he still had his eyes closed. "Yes," he said, opening them properly now.

"And today we're moving into our flat," Sherlock said.

John grinned. "We are," he leaned over and kissed him.

"Come on then," Sherlock said, sitting up and stretching. "Let's get going." He started to get up and then remembered he was naked. He glanced around for his clothes, but then just got up anyway and grabbed his dressing gown from the back of the door. "I've got most of my clothes packed already. Let's each take a suitcase and go over and get things squared away and then we'll come back here and get the rest. Do you think we can use your car?" 

"Yes. We can walk over to the house as soon as I get dressed," he said, stretching and sitting up. 

Sherlock smiled. "Thanks," he said. "Let me go take a quick shower," he added and he disappeared out of his room. 

John stood and moved around the room naked a couple times and started to get dressed, hoping he didn't smell too bad. 

When Sherlock returned, he smiled at John. He leaned in to give him a kiss before handing John a suitcase. They headed out.

As they walked, Sherlock noticed the halls were mostly quiet. "Looks like most students have moved out already," he said. "And now today I finally am."

John smiled. "It'll be good to get away from so much noise."

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He stayed quiet the rest of the walk, thinking of everything that had happened last night and everything that would happen today.

When they arrived John paused at the drive. "Want to come in and say hello?"

"Will it be okay?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah! She'll be really happy to see you," he smiled. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him inside. "Mum?"

She came out from the kitchen and smiled, hugging Sherlock and then John.

Sherlock let her hug him, but it felt like it would be odd to hug her back. Instead he said, "I hope it's all right that John stayed at mine last night and that he's going to help me move today." As soon as he said it, he regretted it but there was no way to take it back.

John threw him a look, so he wouldn't keep going and tell her what else they did. He was never entirely sure about the things Sherlock would say.

"Of course dear. Do you want breakfast?" she asked, putting their bags on the ground.

Sherlock really wanted to look at his watch but thought that would be rude. He glanced up and saw the clock on the wall behind John's mother. He turned to John. "It's up to you," he said.

John noticed Sherlock's eyes move to the clock and smiled softly. "Maybe next time, Mum. We have a bunch of stuff to move."

"All right then. The keys are on the table by the door."

John thanked her and picked up the bag again, making his way to the door.

"We can get something to eat if you're hungry," Sherlock said once they'd got into the car.

"I can wait until after," John said, heading for the flat. It was very exciting.

When they knocked at Mrs Hudson's door, she smiled and let them in. "I thought it'd just be you, Sherlock," she said, smiling over at John.

"For now, it is. He's helping me move in," Sherlock explained. 

Mrs Hudson handed Sherlock the lease, which he skimmed though he wasn't entirely sure what he should be looking at and as soon as he'd signed it, he'd forgotten everything it said anyway. She handed him the key. Then she handed one to John, adding, "Just in case."

"Let's take these up first," Sherlock said to John, motioning towards the suitcases.

"Be careful carrying things up the stairs," Mrs Hudson called as they headed out.

Sherlock opened the door and they stepped in. He looked around and then at John. "Yeah, this is good," he said. "It feels like it's ours." He walked around a bit and set his case down by the bedroom door. "This one'll be mine, right, and you'll have the one up there?" he asked.

John looked up the steps and nodded. "Yeah, that would be great," he said. "Let's go see it," he said as he led the way up.

Sherlock moved back towards John, putting his arms around him and looking around the room. "It's good," he said, putting a quick kiss on his mouth before adding, "Okay, let's go get the rest of it."

John smiled and followed Sherlock back down and out to the car. "Are you just excited to move in?"

"I am," Sherlock admitted. "Plus I hate moving so I'd rather get it over with it." He smiled and then added, "We should be able to get it in one carload and then once it's all there, we can order some food, yeah?"

"Perfect," John said. He shook the wheel excitedly. "I'll be hanging out at yours! Properly yours!"

Sherlock smiled and then looked out the window. He was excited -- this was something he'd waited for for a long time. Then he looked over at John. "Do you not want to call it ours? I mean I know my name's the only one on it but . . ."

"What?" John asked, realising what had happened. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that -- it's not the school's or your family's. And my stuff isn't moved in yet so for the moment it's like . . . all yours," he smiled.

"Fair enough," Sherlock said, looking back out the window. He thought about his question. It _was_ his place and quite frankly that's precisely what he had wanted -- a space un-influenced by anyone else's needs or desires. But at the same time, there was this little seed of insecurity making him hypersensitive to everything, making him immediately panic at John's occasional word choice. He wished he didn't have to be like that, but he knew he did. He knew he'd have to be careful and watch out for any little clue.

When they got back to the residence hall, they began loading the car. Most of Sherlock's things were in boxes or bin bags. He did one last check and threw any remaining items into the bag where he'd put the sheets he'd stripped from the bed. And then that was it. Sherlock no longer lived on campus.

John looked around the room and grinned at Sherlock. "This is it! I'm so happy for you. For us," he said as they walked out and back to the car.

It was it -- it was a milestone for Sherlock, just as graduation was for John. Sherlock thought about it as he sat quietly on the drive back to the flat. Once they arrived, though, he concentrated on getting the things inside as soon as possible, doing his best to organise where boxes should be placed, which he thought was quite a mature way of handling it. Once everything was in the flat, he flopped down on one of the chairs and suggested they get some food.

"I'll call the Chinese restaurant," John said, getting up and placing an order for delivery. He sat in his chair and looked at Sherlock. "We're home." 

Sherlock heard John and noted the use of we and realised he didn't even know what he felt about it. If later when Sherlock was putting things away, John said, "No, we shouldn't put it there" -- that would annoy Sherlock. Yet he hadn't been lying when he'd said he wished John was moving in today and that he liked thinking of the flat as their place. "Let's hook up the telly so we can watch it if you want while we eat," Sherlock said. "The boxes can wait until after dinner." 

"Okay. Were you -- what were you thinking about?" He stood up and fiddled with the telly cord, trying to find a good place to plug it in.

"Don't try to get into my head, John Watson," Sherlock teased. "It's already crowded enough in there." He let John sort the television but got up to dig out his laptop.

"I'm just wondering. You had a look," he smiled, turning it on triumphantly.

"Well, I have a lot of looks," Sherlock laughed. He plugged his laptop in and then paused. "See this face?" he said, pointing to his own. "This face means that the food is here." There was a knock at the door. "Told you. Will you look to see if there are plates and stuff in the cupboards and rinse them if there are? I'll get the food." He stood up and took out his wallet.

"Very funny," he smiled, going into the kitchen and rinsing the plates he found. He searched for silverware as well and set the table nicely.

Sherlock brought the food in and sat down at the table. "Maybe we'll need to go out for a few things," Sherlock said. "I'm going to need tea after we eat and I need milk."

"There's a shop round the corner," John said.

"All right," Sherlock said. Once they'd finished, Sherlock set the plates in the sink and they headed out.

The shop took a bit longer than John had expected. He was looking for fruits and vegetables and food to cook while Sherlock was looking for odd cleaners and candles for experiments. Eventually they compromised, and they went home with what they would both need.

Back at the flat, Sherlock decided to star putting away some of his stuff. He found the sheets and asked John to make the bed, while Sherlock put away some of his other stuff in the room. When they were finished, he flopped down on the bed and stretched out. "I'm glad it has a big bed," he said. "This is the size I have at home and it's hard to get used to the smaller ones."

John climbed into the bed with him and lay on his back as well, sprawled out so that his wrist and ankle overlapped Sherlock's. "It's a good place, Sherlock," he said.

"It is," Sherlock said. "It feels comfortable -- it feels so different and so much better than my room at the hall." He turned on his side to look at John. "It's kind of big -- I hope I can keep it clean. Well, clean enough, I mean."

"I think you'll be okay. Besides, it seems like the landlady will help you out," John said.

"She's a landlady, not a housekeeper," Sherlock said. "I mean, it can't be that hard, can it? I mean, look how nice this room looks, with the tidy, freshly made bed and all? I've done well so far."

"That's because you've done nothing so far," John smiled. He turned to face Sherlock. "I'm not saying take advantage of her or anything, but she looks like a motherly type. That will be nice," he smiled.

"I don't know . . . I'm not sure I need more family types in my life," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath. "This is . . . like a place an adult would live, you know?" He stopped himself and then turned his head towards John. "Look, are you going to kiss me or what? I didn't ask you over just to lug all my stuff around and to tidy up for me. I was also expecting you to kiss me." He pulled a silly face.

"You're trying to use me to break in your new bed," John smiled, talking slyly.

"So? Is that a crime?" Sherlock said. He lay back flat, throwing his arms and legs out as if waiting for John to take over.

John propped himself on his elbow and leaned down to kiss Sherlock softly. "There," he teased.

"That's satisfactory," Sherlock said. "You can leave now -- I mean, after you finishing put away the rest of my stuff." He smiled cheekily.

John pinched him playfully. "I'm not going to let you break in this bed alone. That's irresponsible."

Sherlock closed his eyes and then opened one to peek over at John. "What are you going to do to me then?" he asked.

"Have wild sex with you and ruin your sheets," John said, kissing him hard again. 

Sherlock let John kiss him. "What does 'wild sex' mean? And do the sheets really have to get ruined? I mean messy's okay but destroyed, John? We can't afford to be replacing sheets everyday," he said laughing.

"I meant you wouldn't have a neatly made bed! Shut up and kiss me!" He leaned down and kissed him again.

Sherlock laughed and lift his arms to wrap around John. He kissed him back and let his hands move over John's body.

John rolled against him as they kissed, getting mostly on top of him.

Sherlock hummed his approval, letting his hips press up against John's weight.

"Do you have stuff here?" John asked softly, kissing his neck. 

"Not in this room," Sherlock said. "I can get it or we can do something else."

John nodded. "I want you. Will you do it to me?" he asked, coming up to kiss his mouth. "In our bed?"

"Really?" Sherlock said, stopping for a moment to look closely at John. "Are you sure?"

John nodded. "If you want to. We can do it like before . . ."

"I do want to . . . I just wasn't thinking that way, but I want to do whatever you want," Sherlock said. He pushed himself up a little and said, "Should I go get the stuff?"

Sherlock seemed reluctant so John shook his head. "Let's do that next time. I don't want to stop now," he said, kissing him again.

Sherlock wasn't sure if that meant John had changed his mind, but he tried not to worry. He wrapped his arms around John again, pulling his body close. He let his hips rock a bit as he felt himself starting to get hard.

John sighed softly as Sherlock began to move against him. No protest. Obviously, Sherlock wasn't interested in the other way around. He found his mouth and kissed him, his fingers fumbling to get his clothes off.

Sherlock helped John get his clothes off and then removed John's. "Here," he said, turning John over flat. "Can I put my mouth on you?" he asked softly.

John nodded. "And I'll do you after," he smiled, touching his cheek lightly.

"Or . . . we could try at the same time -- since we've got the big bed, we could try it," Sherlock said, smiling.

"Oh," John gasped softly. "Yes. Let's do that," he nodded.

Sherlock smiled and shifted on the bed so they were lying tops to tails. He slowly stroked John's cock a few times, and then flicked his tongue over it before licking stripes up and down it. 

John moaned softly before taking Sherlock into his mouth, moving his head and hand slowly.

Sherlock's breath caught a little. He pulled off John and glanced down but seeing him only intensified everything. He closed his eyes and said, "I'm only going to be able to take this for a few minutes. It feels too good." Then he sucked lightly on John's tip, trying not to be too distracted by what John was doing to him.

John nodded and focused on what he was doing, taking him in even more, moving a bit faster around him.

Sherlock slipped his mouth down around John, pulling him further inside. He could taste him and suddenly it was all almost overwhelming. "John, I . . ." he mumbled, now using his hand to stroke him. "I want us to come like this," he finished. His hand moved fast and firm on John's shaft, while his mouth gave attention to the tip. He felt an urge to move his hips, but didn't, even though he knew he was so close to coming.

John pulled off. "M'close too," he mumbled, sucking Sherlock into his mouth again and bobbing quickly, taking him deep into his throat.

"Fuck," Sherlock called and then immediately he was coming. He squeezed shut his eyes and tried to maintain his stroke on John, messily kissing and panting on John's cock as he did.

John swallowed around him, his own hips rolling lightly into Sherlock's mouth and hand. Not long after he was coming as well, his head buried in Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock swallowed down some of John's come, wiping his hand across his cheek to clean up the rest. When he caught his breath, he looked down at John and smiled. "That was pretty sexy," he said, moving himself up to lie next to him.

John panted softly to catch his breath. "It was," he nodded, gazing at Sherlock across the bed.

Sherlock moved closer, snuggling against John. "Let's rest a little before we do the rest of the flat," he said, putting a kiss on John's chest.

"That sounds good," John nodded, feeling a bit sleepy.

They rested together for a while, each drifting in and out of sleep. A few hours later, Sherlock gave John a kiss and asked, "Should we get up?" 

John nodded. "We need to finish unpacking," he smiled.

They worked a few more hours with Sherlock putting things away or directing John to do the same. They were just about finished when Sherlock remembered John's party. He wasn't sure whether or not to mention it -- maybe John had forgotten and they could just ignore it. But it was in his head now and he was afraid that not mentioning now that it was somehow devious, and while normally devious wasn't really a problem for Sherlock, today it was. "Um, what do you want to do tonight?" he asked, bringing over tea to John who was sitting on the sofa.

John thought about the party but they hadn't talked about it at all. "Um . . ." John said, deciding he'd leave it up to Sherlock. "I don't know. We can watch a film or maybe play a game? It's a nice night, we could also go walking."

Sherlock looked over at John. He couldn't tell if John was being sneaky by not mentioning the party, but it didn't matter: Sherlock had remembered it and had to make a decision. He took a drink of tea. "What about the party?" he asked.

"Do you want to go? I know it's not your thing. I just like spending time with you." 

"But you like spending time with them as well," Sherlock paused even though it was a statement and not a question. "And this is the last time you might see them. But not the last time you'll see me -- I hope."

"Do you want to come with me?" John asked. "We don't have to stay very long." He was hopefully, waiting for Sherlock's answer while he fiddled with his tea cup. 

"I'll go," Sherlock said, which wasn't really the answer to John's question but at least it meant he wasn't lying. "It'd be good if we don't stay long, but I'll go, John. I don't want to let you down."

John smiled. "I really appreciate it, Sherlock. Really," he said.

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "It's all right." He didn't want it to seem like a big deal -- he was already a bit anxious. "What time's the party? Do you need to go home first?"

John looked around and then nodded. "I should shower, which I can do here but I want to change my clothes," he said.

"All right," Sherlock said. "Should we eat the rest of this Chinese food and then you can nip home to get ready and then we can go together?" He tried to keep his breath regular.

John nodded. "That sounds perfect," he said. He stretched his foot out to run against Sherlock's while they ate.

Sherlock nibbled at his leftovers. "I have a few questions, I guess," Sherlock asked. "About the party, I mean. Could you tell me who will be there, specifically the people who, you know, matter to you?"

"It's going to be . . . well, mostly students," he said apologetically. "Um, the rugby team, their girlfriends and other girls, their friends. There's not really an exact guest list but we will stick together, talk to Greg for a bit and maybe dance a little and then come home."

Sherlock filed that information away, making a special note of the dancing, which he kind of couldn't picture either of them doing. He tried to add the name John had mentioned but somehow it was gone already. "Who is it we'll be talking to, Graham, did you say?" 

"Greg. He's a friend of mine from the rugby team. I got along with him the best," John said. 

Greg, Sherlock put that into the file. "Will there be drinking at this party?" he asked cautiously.

John nodded. "I was going to stay away from all of that, to be honest. I mean, they will have other things to eat and drink."

"That's fine," Sherlock said. "I mean, I don't care about drinking tonight."

"Okay," John smiled. "Do you want to come with me to mine or do you want me to come back and pick you up?"

"I'll get ready here," Sherlock said. "I'll check out the shower. You'll come back just before eight, okay?" he clarified.

"Yes, I will be ready by then. I'll text you when I leave my house to make sure," he smiled.

"Hey," Sherlock said. "Maybe we should do something with your mum tomorrow. Since you've been spending so much time away. I mean, I was thinking you'd sleep at the flat tonight and that's two nights in a row you'll be away. We don't have to if you think it's a bad idea."

"It's a good idea," he smiled. "She was asking about my bringing you around for dinner again."

"Okay, but then she has to cook. Does she have a favourite dessert or something?" Sherlock asked. He knew that to John this probably seemed like a normal idea, but he had no idea just how not normal it was for Sherlock to be thinking of doing something nice for someone who was basically a stranger. Yet it still seemed quite important to him.

"She likes cherry pie," John said. "But she likes you so much you really don't have to bring anything."

Sherlock rolled his eyes a bit. "I'll see you at eight, okay?" he said and John took off.

Sherlock dug out some clothes, realising his trousers and shirt needed ironing. He did that before getting into the shower, realising too late, he hadn't brought the soap or shampoo in with him. Eventually he was ready and sat down to check his email while he waited for John to text.

John kissed him quickly again before leaving. He took a quick shower, ate a light dinner with his mum, and then got ready. He mentioned dinner tomorrow, and she seemed pleased. He wore dark jeans and a burgundy button up shirt, ignoring his mum as he hurried out. 

_On my way. -JW_


	17. The Party

Sherlock stood up and paced a little until he realised that made him more anxious so he sat back down again, until he saw John's car pull up and headed down.

John unlocked the door and smiled. "You look really nice," he said.

"So do you," Sherlock said, because John did look nice and that worried Sherlock a little. He reached over and squeezed John's leg, before resting his hand there for the rest of the drive.

When they arrived John had to park on the next block, taking Sherlock's hand as they walked up to the house. They could hear the music from the pavement.

Sherlock took a deep breath and held John's hand tightly. "Don't make me talk," he said quietly as they walked inside.

"Just stick with me, okay? It won't be long," he said.

Sherlock tried to smile but as soon as they stepped in, the noise and movement of the room distracted him. He squeezed John's hand even more tightly.

"It's okay," John said. "We can leave anytime you want, even now," he assured Sherlock, who didn't say anything back.

They walked into the kitchen are where there were even more people. Sherlock tried to scope the room for potential threats -- people who might harass him or (more likely) just annoy him or people who might want to talk to John. It was quite dark and hard to see. It was also loud which made it hard to think.

"Do you want something to drink now? Maybe a snack?" John asked, looking at the pizza at the end of the table.

"Yeah," Sherlock mumbled. "Something to drink, I think, please."

John pulled him along to the table with drinks and waited for Sherlock to tell him what soda he wanted. John poured some for each of them just as Greg came over.

"Glad you could make it! Hello," he added to Sherlock, smiling. "Anderson is in the back trying to rally people up for a match. Personally I think he just wants an excuse to tackle people."

John shook his head. "He's an animal sometimes. This is Sherlock, by the way."

Greg smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"Yes, hello," Sherlock said awkwardly. "Who are you?" he added, even more awkwardly.

"Greg Lestrade," he said, putting his hand out to shake Sherlock's.

"He's the friend I told you about," John said.

"Greg," Sherlock repeated. He looked over at John's face. It felt like there was something there, something . . . Sherlock couldn't quite put his finger on. He looked over at Greg who was looking at John. He felt like he should say something. "Are you finished then? Are you graduating, I mean?" he asked this so-called Greg.

Greg nodded. "Yeah, I'll be studying criminal justice," he smiled. "Same as Anderson -- imagine me having to work with him one day."

John shook his head. "Hopefully he matures a bit," he teased.

Sherlock did not know Anderson. He sounded like someone he wouldn't like, but Sherlock also didn't like being the only one who didn't know who he was. "Police then?" Sherlock asked. "You want to become a cop?"

"A detective, yeah," Greg nodded. "I need to take this to my date," he added, holding up the two cups he had. "I'll see you guys around." He smiled once more at the both of them before hurrying off into the small crowd. 

Sherlock looked over at John. Was that the kind of guy John liked? If so, how could John possibly also like Sherlock? He took a sip of his drink. "Thanks for the drink," he said because he didn't know what else to say.

"Sure," John smiled, grabbing a slice of pizza. "Do you want to walk around or hang out in here?"

"No thanks," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath. "Would you be angry if I go out and have a cigarette?"

John looked up and fought the urge to tell him that he wished Sherlock wouldn't smoke. But he had come to the party for John so what could he say? "That's fine. I'll wait for you here," he smiled softly. 

Sherlock smiled at John and touched his arm. He finished his drink and set the cup on a table and then went back through the kitchen to the door leading out into the garden. There were fewer people out there, so he walked to the end of the garden, lighting a cigarette and staring out over the back wall.

A few minutes later, he heard someone say his name so he turned to look but it wasn't John. It was Jim.

"Hey," Jim said. "Odd seeing you here." He extended his arm to hand Sherlock a can of lager.

"No thanks," Sherlock said, turning away from him.

"Hey, I brought it for you," Jim said, stepping closer. There was something demanding in his voice.

This only confirmed Sherlock's discomfort with this guy. "Okay, sure then," Sherlock said, accepting the can and taking a drink.

"I didn't think this was your scene," Jim said.

"You're right. It isn't," Sherlock said, not turning to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm only here to say goodbye to a guy from my course," Jim said. It felt to Sherlock that he had somehow moved even closer. "Why are you here?"

"Well, you know, end-of-term, it's a party . . ." Sherlock gulped a bit more from the can. He finished his cigarette. "Well, thanks," he said, wiggling the can before setting it down on the ground. "See you Monday." He headed back inside. He heard Jim call his name, but he didn't turn around. He wanted to find John so they could leave.

John was just grabbing another slice of pizza when Greg came back, tugging his arm. "You gotta come see this," he said.

John followed Greg into one of the bedrooms, looking out the side window onto the driveway. "They're trying to see how many people can fit in that Mini," Greg said. "This is a bad idea."

"Someone is definitely going to get hurt," John said.

Sherlock made his way back to where he had left John, but John was no longer there. He tried not to feel a panic, but he did. He looked around the room but no one there was familiar. He pushed through the people and looked down the hall, but didn't see him. The bathroom door was open so he wasn't in there. He moved to one of the other rooms and saw John and Greg standing together near the bed.

"John," he said awkwardly.

John turned and smiled at Sherlock. "Hey! Feel better?" he asked, pointing to the window. "Come look at this nonsense."

Sherlock tried to read John's face, looking for signs of guilt. Guilt for what? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what he saw -- did he really know John all that well? Would he recognise the signs? "Um," he said. "Sorry -- I didn't mean to interrupt." He turned and went back out of the room, though he had no idea where he was going or what he should be doing.

John turned back around, but Sherlock was gone already. He hurried out of the room, calling for him as he struggled to catch up through the crowd. Thank goodness Sherlock was so tall. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked when he finally reached Sherlock.

"I'm not enjoying this, John," Sherlock said. "I know you are -- maybe it was a mistake for me to come. Your night shouldn't be ruined . . . you should go have fun with Greg."

"I want to have fun with you! You went out for a cigarette and I just stepped away for a second. I don't understand." John stepped closer so they could talk easier over the music. Sherlock huffed softly and John smelled beer. "Have you been drinking?" he asked softly.

Sherlock felt his face flush. "Yeah," Sherlock said. "A little. The guy from my research project was out there and gave me one."

John stepped away from him. It wasn't so much that he'd done it, but that he had said he wouldn't, and now here he was acting awful. Just like Harry always did. "I want to leave," John said, turning away and heading for the front door.

Sherlock followed John. When they got outside, he asked, "Why are you leaving? You can stay--it's fine. You're the one having fun. I'll just go, all right?"

"I wanted to hang out with you. I just thought we could try something different. I told you we didn't have to come. We could have left at any time." John was angry because he had made several attempts to make Sherlock comfortable, and he had brushed them all off and now had the nerve to act like John had dragged him in and forced him to stay. Why did everyone get so stupid when they drank? He wondered how much Sherlock had had. "I think I'm going to go home tonight. I'll drop you off."

"Why?" Sherlock asked. "So that Greg can come over?" He knew immediately it was something he shouldn't have said, but it was too late. He was confused and worried and anxious all at the same time. "Greg was drinking, you know . . ." He regretted that as well but it was like he couldn't stop his mouth.

John stopped walking, staring straight ahead of him. How had this happened? They had had such a good day and now it was this. "Greg wasn't acting like an arse," he said before continuing to the car. He really wanted to just drive off and leave him there, force him to walk back, but he couldn't. He sat in the driver's seat and waited for him to get in.

Sherlock stood for a moment and then followed John to the car. "I'm sorry I'm not Greg," he said as he put on his buckle. He stared forward at the street. "You should have clarified that's what you wanted."

"Greg is my friend!" John half shouted. "He's my friend and I'm sorry that I wanted to see him and hang out with him before we all left for different schools." He started the car and took off, trying to drive carefully. He was being overwhelmed by everything now, his bad mood magnifying things he didn't even know had upset him before -- Sherlock's reluctance about his moving in, about having sex in a different way, about coming to the party. He pulled up in front of the flat and kept staring forward. "Harry gets paranoid when she drinks, too. Thanks for ruining the whole evening," he muttered.

Sherlock had stayed silent the whole ride home -- there was too much in his brain to be able to hear how any of it made sense. "I didn't ruin it," he said. He got out of the car and let himself into the flat.

John felt his eyes burning as he drove away from the flat but he refused to start crying until he got into his bed. If his mum was still up, he didn't want her to see. Sherlock was a completely different person tonight, and John was having a hard time accepting it.

John had told him they could leave the moment Sherlock wanted to. Of course, he wanted to see his friends, but he wanted Sherlock to be comfortable as well. Why couldn't Sherlock return the sentiment? Why couldn't he have sucked it up for just a few minutes so that John could do something he liked? Why was he so . . .selfish?

The word made John lose his resolve and start crying properly but thankfully his mum was in bed, so he just went up to his own and crawled into bed. Why did he have to drink on top of it all? How much had he had? Was that why he was acting so awful? Sherlock knew what that meant to John, and he'd done it anyway.

Sherlock stepped inside the flat and looked around. There was part of him that hated it now. He tried to shake that thought out of his head. He should've known not to let himself to get wrapped up in the new, get sucked into someone else's life. He should've known that he'd ruin everything and end up alone. A few months ago that's all he'd wanted -- to be able to be alone. And now he was. He shouldn't hate the flat. It'd given him just what he wanted.

He made a cup of tea and took it into the bedroom. He changed into his pajamas and crawled into bed. But it reminded him of John, of course. Of what they'd done and what'd he thought about them doing on this bed. He did like all that. He did like John.

Is that why he'd taken so many risks? What hold did John have over Sherlock that could make him behave so differently to the person he'd become? Sherlock had thought John was safe, but maybe he'd be wrong. Of course, he'd been wrong. Sherlock should have known he could never make someone like John love him. He'd been so stupid to even try.

He finished his tea and rolled on his side to go to sleep. He tried to go into his mind palace, but the rooms seemed full of memories of John. He could feel tears come down his face until eventually he fell asleep.


	18. Another Dinner at John's House

When Sherlock woke up, he was confused for a moment, not knowing where he was. And then he remembered -- he was in his new flat. His flat, not John's. Then he thought about last night. All of it -- the fight, catching John with someone else, Greg, Jim, and . . . the conversation about dinner with John's mum. That made his stomach hurt. He got up to make himself a cup of tea. 

If he didn't go, that would be it -- things would be over for sure. Is that what he wanted? No, but he couldn't help the fact that there was a part of him that knew that's what would happen eventually, so maybe it was better just to let it end now in only a slightly humiliating way. He moved over to the desk and opened his laptop. Then there was a knock at the door.

"Good morning," Mrs Hudson said when he opened the door. "Or afternoon, I should say."

"Morning," he said, stepping back and letting her follow him inside. He moved to the kitchen and made her a cup of tea.

She glanced around the flat. "Things are starting to shape up, I see," she said, before adding. "Is your friend here?"

Sherlock looked over at her. She seemed…kind actually, she seemed nice. "Mrs Hudson," he said. "You and I have a legal arrangement, correct? I am your tenant and you are my landlady. The agreement is just between us, right? I mean, at the moment, no one else is involved, correct?"

She looked over at him. "Correct," she said.

"So there's an implied trust. You trust me that I'll properly care for the flat and pay my rent. And I . . . can trust you?"

Mrs Hudson was not an idiot. She had a feeling this had to do with Sherlock's brother. She could understand -- although it was clear Mycroft was concerned about Sherlock, there was definitely something offputting about the man. "Yes, Sherlock," she said. "You can trust me."

Sherlock swallowed. "John and I had a fight last night and I don't think he likes me anymore," he said and then he drank some tea and stared at his mug.

"I see," she said. "And was this fight your fault?"

"I'm not entirely convinced it was," he said.

"But is it a possibility?"

"Yes, it is a possibility," he admitted.

"You should probably talk to him about it," she said. "The worst that could happen is that you will find out he doesn't like you anymore. At least knowing would be better than wondering. And if you talk to him, there's a chance you'll find out that he does still like you."

"But I'm supposed to have dinner with his mum today," Sherlock said. "I can't talk to him in front of his mum."

"True," she said. "Perhaps you could decide what you want to say and just get through the dinner and then talk to him." She looked over and could almost see his mind going.

"Perhaps," Sherlock said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Mrs Hudson said, standing up. "Thanks for the tea. I'm glad you're settled in."

Sherlock watched her leave and then went back to his bedroom.

John had struggled all night, having odd dreams about Sherlock and Harry going out together all the time while John sat at home worrying with his mum. When he woke up he still felt exhausted and he kept his eyes closed until sleep took him again. The next time he woke up it was late in the day, and he could smell food cooking. He closed his eyes and sighed.

He'd forgotten about the dinner. What was his mum going to say when Sherlock didn't show up? What was he going to say about it? He didn't want to get up and face it, but he forced himself to.

Eventually Sherlock got up and took a shower. He got dressed and then Googled the nearest bakery. He stopped in and then started walking.

He turned the corner and looked over at John's house. He couldn't help wondering if Greg had spent the night there. Maybe not last night, maybe that was stupid. But Sherlock bet he had before. There were so many people in John's life who had shared things with him, things from which Sherlock would forever be excluded. But still . . . if he turned around now, he'd be excluded from John's life forever, and that thought made his heart hurt. He got out his phone.

_I'm not ready for this to end. Come back to the flat with me after dinner. Please. SH_

He crossed the road and knocked on John's front door.

John was heading down the stairs when he heard his phone, pausing to read the message. But just then he also heard the door and he looked up, staring at it nervously.

"John! Can you get it, please? I've got my hands in the meat," Susan called.

John took a deep breath and went down to the door, pulling it open. He looked up at Sherlock, feeling awkward. "I didn't think you were coming," he said softly, moving aside to let him in. 

"I said I would," Sherlock said. "I said I would so I have." He handed John the cherry pie.

John took the pie and shut the door. "There's burgers, I hope that's okay," he said as he led the way to the kitchen.

"Hello Sherlock," Susan said, smiling brightly at him.

"Hello," Sherlock said, trying to smile. Things were uncomfortable between him and John, but it felt really important to him that John's mum didn't become part of that. "Everything smells good. Is there anything I could do to help?"

"No, no. You boys sit down. It'll be ready soon." She started cutting veggies to top the burgers while John went to sit at the table with Sherlock. He didn't know what to talk about.

"Did you tell your mum about the flat?" Sherlock asked, loudly enough for Susan to hear.

"Not yet," he said, flushing lightly at what that meant.

Sherlock looked over at Susan. "I'm all moved into the flat -- thanks to John's help with the shifting of boxes and all. It's quite nice. Perhaps one day he could bring you round for a cup of tea. It's the first time I've ever lived on my own," he said. He glanced at John, hoping he'd realise that Sherlock would never deliberately say something that would upset John and his mum's relationship.

"Oh, that would be lovely. I'm sure you're excited," she smiled. She brought all of the food to the table and just waited for the cheese to melt on the burgers.  John got up and got water for everyone.

"John was a lot of help," Sherlock repeated. He took a burger on his plate and cut it in half. "It looks great," he told Susan. He glanced over at John and tried to smile.

"Oh good. Did you like it, John?" 

"Oh yeah," John nodded. "It's got a really nice space and a fireplace and furniture."

"Your home's lovely, Mrs Watson," Sherlock said. He took a bite of sandwich. He felt like he was trying to act normal, and he wondered if that'd be enough for John.

John bit into his burger when someone started pounding on the door. Then he heard keys trying to make the lock work, and the door opened with Harry stumbling in. She was dragging her mattress.

"What are you doing?" John asked, getting up quickly.

"It's useless without the frame," she giggled, dropping the mattress in the door and heading for the stairs.

John grabbed her arm. "I thought we talked about this."

She shoved John hard enough to make him stumble back. "I'm getting my bed." She went up to her room, and they heard the whole frame being dragged. 

"My floor. . ." Susan said, hurrying upstairs. Immediately Harry was shouting at their mum. John's face was burning with embarrassment as he moved for the stairs himself.

Sherlock looked up, watching John and John's mother. So this must be Harry. He stood up and moved to the stairs. He grabbed John's arm and looked closely at his face. "Tell me what to do. Go upstairs to help her and stay with your mother? I'll do whatever you need. Tell me," he said softly.

"I-I'm sorry," John said, hurrying up to help his mum.

"The mattress is useless without the frame!" Harry yelled.

John grabbed her arm and started to drag her out. "You're leaving now," he said. He was tired of this. They couldn't keep being nice. 

"Get off me!" she shouted, pushing at him and trying to get him off. They struggled a bit, John backing off so no one fell down the stairs. "Is that your boyfriend?" she asked, reaching to grab Sherlock.

John pushed her away and towards the door. "Don't touch him! Take your mattress and get out."

"You don't kick him out!" Harry shouted at her mother.

"No one had kicked you out, Harriet."

"Shut up!" she shouted at the name. She grabbed the mattress and headed down the path.

John shut the door hard. Sherlock stayed close to John and his mum, waiting to see if there was something he could do. John was handling it, though.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry," Susan said softly.

"Please," Sherlock said to John's mum. "There's no need to apologise. I'm sorry she's struggling so much and that it's hurting you and John." He reached over and touched John's hand lightly.

John grabbed his hand tightly and took a deep breath. He could still hear Harry ranting outside but she was fading, moving away from the house.

"John, she'll get arrested . . ." Susan said quietly.

John sighed. "I have to go get her or find someone come get her," he told Sherlock. He let go of his hand and went to the door. Maybe he could call Clara. He didn't know if she would come, but he didn't know who else to call.

Sherlock followed John. "Please," he said to him. "Let me help -- what do you want me to do?"

"I have to contact her girlfriend. I don't know if they're still together," John said, taking the keys and walking out. Why did this have to happen when Sherlock was here? Why did he have to see them like this? "I'm going to drive and get her but the mattress…I don't know," he admitted.

"Do you want to come with to see if we can get the bed in the boot of the car? I can help -- let me help," Sherlock said. "Unless you'd rather I leave . . . just tell me."

"I --" As much as John hated Sherlock's seeing these things, he hated the thought of being alone even more. "Please don't leave." He climbed into the car and waited for Sherlock to get in before driving off. "Do you think you can get her phone from her while I try and talk to her?"

"I'll do my best," Sherlock said. He sat quietly for a moment. "Last night . . . I'm sorry," he said. He didn't say anything more -- he knew this wasn't the time to talk about it -- but he wanted John to hear his apology.

John glanced over and wanted to ask a hundred questions but now wasn't the time. "Me too," he said simply. He saw Harry and he pulled the car over, getting out and cutting her off. 

"God. What do you want?" she asked, hoisting the mattress. 

"You're going to get arrested of you carry on shouting," John said. "You said you were going to try to stop."

"Oh, fuck you, John. You think it's so easy," she said, trying to get around him. 

"But we can help -- we can get you help. Clara will too," he said, trying to figure out what the situation was with her. 

Sherlock stood a little behind John, letting him control the situation. "We could give you a ride somewhere," he said quietly.

She turned around to face him. "You think you have any say in this? Just because you're fucking my brother?"

"Harry! Shut up!" John shouted loudly, bringing her attention back to him. "We can drive you anywhere you want," he said. 

She narrowed her eyes. "You're going to get me into the car and drop me off at a hospital?"

John shook his head. "We'll take you wherever you want."

She looked back at Sherlock and then John again. "Fine."

Sherlock got into the back seat of the car. Once John started the engine, he leaned forward and said to Harry, "I'm Sherlock. None of this is my business, but I'm here so I thought I should introduce myself."

Harry turned to look at him, taking in his whole appearance. "At least you have good taste," she grumbled to John. "What are you doing about my mattress?"

John sighed and got back out with Sherlock, fitting it as best as they could into the boot. If they didn't go too fast or too far they could get away with it. "Where does Clara live?"

Harry shrugged and leaned against the window. 

"Where's your phone?" he asked. He gave it to Sherlock. "Will you call Clara and get an address?" He started driving slowly, waiting for directions.  

"Is it under Clara?" Sherlock asked Harry in the hopes of making it seem like she actually wanted him to do it. He scanned through the contacts trying to memorise the names, just in case they were relevant. When he found Clara's number, he repeated it in his head ten times until he knew it by heart.

When he heard a woman's voice, he said, "I'm here with Harry -- her brother and I are giving her a ride home. Can we get the address?"

"Jesus," the woman said. "Is she drunk?"

"Yes," Sherlock said carefully. "She's ready to come home, she says." He glanced up but Harry didn't intervene . . . yet.

"Tell John and his mum, I'm sorry," the woman said. "I thought we were close to getting her treatment. Just please, bring her home." She gave Sherlock the address. "Let me speak to her -- I'll keep her calm."  
  
Sherlock handed Harry the phone.

Harry snatched the phone and leaned even more into the window. She was talking with Clara quietly, mumbling into the phone. John prayed she didn't get angry and change her mind about this. He followed Sherlock's directions as quickly as he could. At some point Harry hung up the phone and closed her eyes. John looked at Sherlock through the mirror and mouthed a thank you. 

When he pulled up and parked, Harry got out without looking back. Clara came out to meet them, talking with her for a moment before taking her inside and coming to find John. 

"Are you John, then?"

He nodded. She looked back at the mattress with a sigh and went to get it out. John helped her. 

"I'm trying to convince her. She's just . . . it's hard," she said. "You know . . . denial and all."

He nodded again. "I know. Um, thank you for taking her in." He wondered how she kept doing this over and over. 

She smiled and hugged John before waving at Sherlock and dragging the mattress into the house. John got back into the car and leaned against the wheel, covering his face. 

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked. "I mean, I know you're not, but . . ."

John lifted away from the wheel and leaned back in his seat, taking a deep breath. "I'm fine," he said. He started the car and pulled away from the kerb. "Sadly, this is . . . normal," he said as he headed back towards his house. "I . . . are you coming back to mine?" 

"Whatever you want me to do, let me do it -- like I should have done last night," Sherlock said.

John pulled the car over on a random street and looked over at Sherlock. He couldn't take Sherlock back to finish dinner or see his mum if they didn't clear this up. There was enough going on already. "What happened last night? Greg and I -- we're just friends," he explained softly. "That's all."

Sherlock looked closely at John. "It's me, John, not you," he said. "I believe you -- I can read your face, you're not lying, I know you're not. It's just . . . I worry about these things and when it gets into my head, it . . . gets bigger than my logic, which I hate. I hate it but I don't know how to make it stop except to avoid . . . feelings at all. Which is what I was doing . . . before I met you."

"I don't know how much you actually drank last night, but I just feel like it spiralled out of control," he sighed.

"What?" Sherlock said. He hadn't expected that. "John, I didn't even have a whole can -- it wasn't the alcohol. I don't know if that makes it better or worse, but it wasn't drinking that caused my . . . panic, it's just . . . me." He ran his hand over his face. "God, John, I'm sorry -- I shouldn't have had anything to drink . . . it was stupid. I'm sorry I didn't think . . ."

John shook his head. "I can't expect everyone to abstain," he said. "You'd just said you wouldn't be drinking. . . "

"I just . . . fucked up," Sherlock said. "I'm sorry the first time you saw that part of me was in front of your friends and there was alcohol involved. It just all . . . went wrong because I can't stop those thoughts."

"Okay. It's okay," John said softly. He looked down at his hands, playing with his own fingers. "Can I ask you something else that I couldn't get out of my head?" he asked nervously.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Yes," he said.

"How come you were hesitant, I mean, . . . why don't you want to do it to me?" he asked, still looking down at his hands and talking very quietly.

Sherlock exhaled. He reached over and held John's hand. "It's not that I don't want to . . . I'm just used to that way, I guess. If you want me to, John, I will. I just . . . god, it just seems like everything I do is the wrong thing even though all I want to do is do right by you. I'm so, so sorry."

John reached over and touched his arm. "Sherlock, it's all right . . . I promise."

“I really like you a lot, John,” Sherlock whispered.

John turned and looked at Sherlock. This was very close to the text they had exchanged. It was different hearing it. “I really like you too.”

They were quiet for a moment.

"Okay." John rubbed his face hard. "Okay. Let's go back to my mum's so I can tell her that Harry is safe and then we'll go to . . . to ours," he said, waiting for Sherlock's response before doing anything.

"Only if your mum's okay," Sherlock insisted. "If you need to stay, it'll be okay. We have . . . time." He squeezed John's thigh and then sat back properly.

"We can see how things are," he said. He squeezed Sherlock's hand before heading off to his house again.

"John?" his mother asked the minute they walked in the door.

"We took her to Clara's," John said.

"Oh good," she sighed, motioning them to the table again.

Sherlock was hesitant about saying much, but he tried to look sympathetic. He was – neither John or his mum deserved this stress.

"I'm not really hungry anymore," he told his mum.

"Sure. Just help me put things away and you can have some pie later or tomorrow," she smiled. 

John moved to help her wondering what was going to happen when he left, and Harry showed up like that. 

"A cup of tea, maybe?" Sherlock said. He felt awkward about taking John away. He sat down. "I'm sorry your daughter's struggling, Mrs Watson," he said tentatively. "I'm sorry it's hard for her and also for you and John." He was afraid to glance over at John, just in case he'd said the wrong thing, but everything he said was true. 

Susan came over and hugged Sherlock quickly. "It's not your fault, dear. Sit down now, I'll start the kettle."

John last down and reached over to grab Sherlock's hand, squeezing it softly.

Sherlock held onto John's hand. He knew that what had happened between them last night hadn't gone away totally and would probably need to be talked about again, but he was so glad for now at least things felt right again. They all drank tea and chatted, a bit awkwardly as they avoided mentioning Harry. Sherlock tried to be in the conversation as much as possible, even though he was still a bit worried about saying the wrong thing. He spent a lot of time focused on his tea, waiting for John to let him know whether he'd be going back to the flat alone.

"Okay, well, we're going to get going. Um . . ." John trailed off, looking at Sherlock. Did he still want him to come to the flat? "I can give you a ride," he added hesitantly.

"Of course, John. Don't make him walk," Susan said quickly.

Sherlock tried to read John's face. "Thanks. It's a bit late and I start my research thing tomorrow morning. If you'd like to stay at mine . . . maybe you could give me a ride in before you head home in the morning?" He looked down at his mug, afraid to look at John or Susan.

"Yeah," John said, hoping his relief wasn't too obvious. "Let me just pack an overnight bag. Mum? Do you want me to stop at the shop or anything in the morning?"

"Yes, I would actually. Come with me to give you a list."

John followed her up the stairs where she cornered him. "What did you do?"

"What?" John asked confused.

"That poor boy looks so sad and you've both been acting . . . odd." 

"Nothing happened," John said. He wasn't about to tell her about the fight or the drinking.

She narrowed her eyes at him and nipped into her room for the shopping list. "You be nice to him."

John watched her go back down in surprise. "You're my mum," he muttered, going into his room and packing a quick bag. He came back down to find her chatting at Sherlock. "Ready?"

Sherlock stood up and thanked Susan again for the meal. He didn't say anything about Harry or what had happened. She leaned in to hug him again, and he let her. He followed John out to the car. "Thanks for coming with me," he said, as he got in.

John nodded. "After what you did tonight, of course," he said as he started the car.

"What did I do?" Sherlock asked, a bit surprised.

"Coming with me to help. And not being . . . scared off," he said. He was looking straight ahead, twisting his hands around the wheel nervously.

"I will always help you, John," Sherlock said genuinely. "No matter what -- I will do anything for you." He reached over and touched John's leg lightly. "And thank you for . . . you know, I'm just sorry I ruined last night."

"I'm not exactly sure what happened last night," he admitted.

"I ruined it," Sherlock said. "But I never will again."

John glanced over at Sherlock. "You know that I love you, yeah?" he asked softly.

Sherlock stared out the window. "I know you think you do," he said.

"What? I do, Sherlock."

"John . . . why would you? I'm not very . . . kind really. I won't lie to you, John -- last night . . . I didn't even stop to think about the lager. I'm not like you . . . I'm selfish. Maybe you just don't see it yet, but I'm just . . . not good at the kinds of things you deserve."

"But you can't just . . .I overreacted, Sherlock. I love you because you're honest and smart and handsome and so important to me."

"But --" Sherlock said and then stopped. He took a deep breath. "All right. Drinking really isn't that important to me, but if I want to, I'll tell you and maybe that'll take care of that issue. And the other stuff. . . I'll be more careful."

John wasn't quite sure what 'the other stuff' referred to, but he didn't want to prolong the discussion. They were quiet as they made their way back to Baker Street.


	19. Making Up

Sherlock unlocked the flat and moved to the kitchen to put on the kettle. As he set two mugs out, he said, "Do you want to sleep in my room?" Of course, he wanted John to, but after last night, he didn't want to take anything for granted.

John nodded. "I don't want to sleep alone if I'm staying the night," he said, leaning on the door frame of the kitchen. "Besides, I missed you," he admitted.

"Good," Sherlock said. "I mean, good, you will because I want you to." He handed John a mug. "I mean . . . I missed you last night. It wasn't as nice here without you."

John sipped at his tea. "I don't think I'd use my room all that much even if I lived here. Just as a spot to maybe be alone for a bit. Not for sleeping." He hoped Sherlock wanted him to move in still.

"Can we kiss when we go in there?" Sherlock asked. "Does that still interest you? Or are we more like friends now?"

"It still interests me," John said, moving into the kitchen properly. He wished Sherlock didn't worry about things so much. "I missed kissing you, too." He stood in front of him, reaching up to hold his cheeks.

Sherlock leaned down and kissed John's mouth softly. "It's good, this," he said and then kissed him again.

John nodded, looping his arms around Sherlock's neck and darting his tongue out, tilting his head a bit to deepen the kiss.

"Should we go to bed now?" Sherlock asked, already pulling John towards the bedroom.

John nodded as he tried to walk and stay as close as possible to him.

Once inside, Sherlock turned and pulled John's jumper over his head. He helped him get completely undressed and then took off his own clothes. He pulled John towards the bed, pulling down the covers so they could get underneath.

John tried to help as much as he could before he found himself in Sherlock's bed, naked under the covers. "It's a very comfortable bed," he smiled, moving closer and kissing Sherlock's mouth.

"More so when you're in it," Sherlock said. He let John kiss him. "This is so good -- this is worth the risk, isn't it?"  
  
"What risk?" John asked.

But Sherlock didn't answer. His hands moved around John's back, stroking the length of his torso. Sherlock could feel his hips instinctively begin to move.

John moved so their bodies were almost flush. They touched every time one of them rolled their hips for more. It was light and teasing. It was driving John crazy.

Sherlock reached down and started to lightly stroke John. His whole body heated up and he pulled John down over top of him. "Will you?" he asked, glancing quickly at the drawer where the supplies were.

John glanced up and nodded, leaning up to get a condom and the lube. He poured some onto Sherlock, massaged the pucker softly and eased one finger into Sherlock.

Sherlock closed his eyes at John's touch. It was overwhelming almost -- the desire so great it became a need -- and he suddenly felt an urge to cry. He didn't understand it, he didn't know if it was good or bad because everything had always been so confused in his head. It was almost like he wanted John to shout at him, to tell him that he'd ruined everything, to punish him. But he didn't really want that at all, he didn't want this to be like that even though it had been in the past. He didn't know how to be with someone when it wasn't like that, but god, he wanted to be with John, he wanted the things John had promised and he wanted them to come with this feeling, this need, too. He could never get so close to ruining things again, he could never make a mistake again. That's the only way he could guarantee that John would always want him. He lifted a lifted a hand to John's shoulder and opened his eyes to look at him, but that overwhelmed him again. "Don't stop . . . I'm sorry," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut again.

"What's the matter?" John asked softly as he moved his finger slowly.

"John," Sherlock said softly. "You make everything so different…"

John didn't understand what Sherlock meant -- if it was a good different or a bad one -- but now didn't seem like the time to ask about all of that. He continued pumping his finger into Sherlock, gently adding a second one. He leaned down to kiss him again.

Sherlock lifted his hands to hold the back of John's hand, making the kiss longer. He opened his eyes. "I don't want to be without you," he said softly. "Please . . . I want you to . . ." he said, letting his head fall back on the pillow as he slid his hand between them to slowly stroke himself.

"To what?" he asked, pumping his hand faster. When it moved easily he added another finger.

"To be inside," Sherlock said. He was panting now, his hands and hips moving fast with John's rhythm.

John nodded. "Soon, love, I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. With his free hand he found the condom, using his teeth to tear it open. He rolled it on before putting a bit more lube on Sherlock.

Sherlock exhaled loudly and slowed his hand on his cock. He kept his eyes closed, trying to be patient, even though he wasn't sure why John wasn't rushing.

John pulled his fingers out and eased his cock in, sinking all the way down before he started to thrust in and out.

Sherlock called John's name as he pushed inside. It felt so good. He wanted to keep his eyes open, to see John. He kept one hand slowly stroking himself and lifted the other to John's shoulder.

John gazed down at Sherlock as he moved more smoothly, quickening his pace a bit. He couldn't help it -- the tight heat felt incredible and after their fight it was even more so. That fact that it wasn't over and that they could still work on being together made this mean even more.

Sherlock realised that this was good -- this was the pleasure -- not just the rush to the end. He let his hand move slowly up and down John's arm. He lifted his head a little to encourage John to kiss him again.

John leaned close and kissed Sherlock as he rolled his hips, moving deeply into his body.

Sherlock kissed John, letting his tongue slip into his mouth. He lifted his hand to John's hair. It was harder to stroke himself when John was so close, so he just angled his cock a bit, feeling the friction against John's stomach.

John moved faster and harder, panting softly into Sherlock's mouth.

"It feels good," Sherlock moaned softly. "Do you like it?"

John nodded. "You feel good," he panted. 

"I want this . . . always," Sherlock said softly.

"I . . . I'm close," John said.

Sherlock tried to stroke himself again, closing his eyes and getting lost in it all. Soon he was coming against John's belly, panting and repeating John's name.

John moaned loudly as pushed deep into Sherlock, coming seconds after him as he felt Sherlock squeezing around him. He collapsed on top of him, panting into his neck.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. He did make everything different, better. John made everything better. He put a kiss on the side of John's head. "Are you ready to sleep?"

John shook his head. "Not yet," he said.

Sherlock shifted a bit to get a little more comfortable. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Can we just cuddle? I like this," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said. He curled a bit more into John and took a long deep breath. His fingers lightly stroked John's skin. "This is nice actually," he said. "It's good."

John smiled against him. "Yeah, it's really nice," he agreed. "I missed you."

"I've never really had this part," Sherlock admitted. "I . . . like it. Maybe I should skip work tomorrow and we could stay like this all day." He smiled lightly.

"Your first day?" John asked, looking up at him.

"Sure," Sherlock said. "You're more important." He snuggled in even closer.

John smiled softly. "Don't miss your first day. But I appreciate that you said it."

Sherlock sat up a little and looked down at John. "I didn't just say it," he said softly. "I meant it." He looked at him a little longer and then lay down again. "But I'll go. I do want to get started so I can start earning money."

"It'll be good. Aren't you excited at all to start?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Not really. I still don't feel entirely all right about the other student and it's likely the work will be boring. But it'll be fine. Especially if sometimes you'll be here in the flat with me." He reached over and grabbed John's hand.

"You can text me and it won't be as boring," he said.

"We'll see," Sherlock said. "I'm not quite sure how it's going to work -- if I'll have to stay there or if I can work wherever. What are your plans for tomorrow on your first proper day of being done with school?"

"Sleeping," he grinned. "No alarms."

"Lazy," Sherlock teased, pinching his arm lightly.

"It's been so long," John whined, smiling wider.

"Maybe we should go to sleep," Sherlock said. "We could get breakfast on the way in, if you want. Will you really give me a ride?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I will. I'll suffer one more alarm," he teased.

Sherlock shifted a little, pulling the covers up around both of them. "I don't usually need an alarm but set it just in case." Then he sat up. "Actually I need the toilet. Do you want me to bring anything in for you? Water or we have some snacks or whatever you got at the shop the other day."

"Just some water is fine," John said, rolling onto his back to let Sherlock up.

Sherlock returned with some water and got back into bed. "I would like it if you lived here all the time, I think," he said.

John sat up and chugged the water before smiling at him. "Yeah? That's good," he said.

"We'll see," Sherlock said. He snuggled down to get more comfortable. "Can we get by each other to go to sleep?" he asked stupidly, hoping they could cuddle a bit.

John nodded. "I'm only over here to finish my water," he said. He opened the bottle and chugged a bit more before closing it and lying down, scooting closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock slid closer and wrapped an arm round John to spoon him. He lay quietly thinking about sex and work and John and if this was how one felt when they were actually in love.


	20. The Research Project

Sherlock woke to the sun coming in the window. He looked over and saw John still sleeping. This was a much better way to wake up than how he'd felt yesterday morning. "John," he said, pushing lightly on his back. "Wake up, lazy."

John groaned softly and stretched, yawning as he turned around to face Sherlock. "Hmm?"

"You need to take me to work," Sherlock said. "Remember?"

John opened his eyes and blinked at Sherlock. "Of course," he smiled.

"Good," Sherlock said. He smiled back. "I don't feel well," he added, rubbing his stomach lightly.

"Are you nervous?" John asked, putting his hand on Sherlock's belly as well.

"No," Sherlock said too quickly. He rested his hand on John's. "Yes," he added quietly.

"You're going to do so great," he said. "Just ignore that other kid and focus on your work."

"You're not the boss of me," Sherlock said. "I need to shower." He stretched and then stood up. "I'll put the kettle on -- will you make the tea while I'm in the shower?" He moved to get some clean clothes. "Are you going to shower here?"

"I was just giving you advice," John said. "I packed extra clothes so I can if you don't mind."

"Shush," Sherlock said. "Make the tea and you can shower after me, all right?" He moved back to him and gave him a little kiss and then left the room.

John sighed softly and went into the kitchen, starting the kettle and looking for something to make for breakfast.

When Sherlock came back out, he saw John in the kitchen. "Do you want to go get breakfast before you drop me off?" he asked, shaking his wet hair a little. He took his mug and moved over to the desk to pack up his laptop.

"Oh, yeah. I was looking for something to make here," he smiled.

"Go shower," Sherlock said. "Then we can stop at the cafe before you drop me off. You know, like old times." He looked over at John. "God, it was only a few days ago we were there, but it seems like ages."

John smiled and went to get his clean clothes, taking a quick shower. He dressed and came back to the kitchen, taking his mug of tea. "How much time do we have?"

Sherlock was all ready by the time John came out, actually awkwardly standing up by his desk, holding his bag. "Um, about an hour. So . . . we should probably go now," he said.

John put his mug down and nodded. "Okay. Where are you all meeting?" he asked as he grabbed his keys and the list his mum have him.

"The science building," Sherlock followed John out to the car. He was quiet as they drove to the cafe. As they walked in, he said, "I forgot it was going to be dead in here with few students around. It's much better, I think." He smiled at John as the moved to the counter. He ordered a cup of tea and some toast and then said to John, "Let me treat you -- get whatever you want."

John ordered a tea and a muffin. He looked around and smiled. "It's so much nicer now that we're not fighting for seats."

Sherlock sat down at the table where they'd first sat together. "It's odd, isn't it?" he said.

"It's nice," he said. "Although if it wasn't for all of that, we never would have met."

"That's what I mean, I guess," Sherlock said, taking a sip of tea. "It's odd that it wasn't that long ago we were strangers irritating each other and now we're . . . not. You know what I mean."

John smiled. "I know what you mean," he said.

Sherlock glanced down at his watch. "What are your plans for the rest of the day then?" he asked.

"I have to go to the shop for my mum and then I'll be over there for a little bit. That's all," he said. "How long will you be working?"

"No idea," Sherlock said, which made his stomach hurt again but he just finished his tea instead of remarking on it. "I'll text you as soon as I find out." He fiddled with his bag. "I think I might walk there now, if that's okay."

"Oh. Are you sure?" John asked, fiddling with his own tea. "I can give you a ride."

"I think I'd rather -- clear my head a bit," Sherlock said. "And have a cigarette." He reached over and squeezed John's hand.

"Okay," John said. He nodded and finished his muffin. "I'll see you afterwards, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll text you," Sherlock said. "It'll be fine, I'll be fine, don't be silly about it," he added, though it was more to reassure himself than John. He leaned over and gave him a kiss goodbye and then headed out.

When he got to the research lab, Jim was already there, which immediately annoyed Sherlock. So was Professor Ellis, who smiled widely when Sherlock came in.

"Good to see you," he said, too enthusiastically. "I hope you enjoyed your weekend and are ready to work." He motioned for Sherlock to sit down and then joined him and Jim at the table, setting a box down between them. "I brought some doughnuts," he said.

Jim reached over and took one but Sherlock had a feeling he didn't really want it. Sherlock didn't want one either so he just sat there.

Fortunately, Ellis got straight to business, explaining the project, the method and most importantly the purpose. This reassured Sherlock -- he liked having something to solve. It also became clear that not all the work needed to be done between 9-5 nor did it need to be done on campus. Ellis would be around for the first week, so he suggested that they all keep working here for the next few days, but once he left for his trip, he said Sherlock and Jim could work separately, possibly meeting once a week to share what they'd found. Sherlock was so glad he hadn't changed his mind and passed up this opportunity. It funded the flat and now it looked like it'd even allow him more time to spend with John there. This made him feel very good indeed.

"What are you thinking about?" Jim asked.

"What?" Sherlock said, realising he'd zoned out a little. He looked round and noticed the professor was no longer in the room. "Um, nothing, just thinking about the work."

"I thought you might be thinking about your broken heart," Jim said, standing up and moving over to one of the computers to log on.

"What?" Sherlock asked, still sitting at the table. Then he worried it might look like Jim was working and Sherlock wasn't, so he got out his laptop.

"I saw the fight you had with your boyfriend," Jim said. "At the party, remember?" he added to clarify. "I hope he doesn't blame me for your drinking."

Sherlock said nothing, trying to make sense of how and why Jim knew about any of this.

"Though, to be fair, Sherlock, it was quite stupid of you, forgive me for saying," Jim went on, staring at the computer but still clearly taking pleasure in Sherlock's discomfort. "Family members of alcoholics are obviously going to be sensitive to drinking. You don't have to be a genius to know that. You really shouldn't have."

"I only did because you gave it to me," Sherlock said instinctively.

"Oh, so _you're_ the one who's blaming me? Peer pressure, Sherlock, really? Don't be stupid. Is that the excuse you gave him? No wonder he dumped you."  
  
Sherlock didn't even have to turn his head to see the smugness all over Jim's face. He was trying to make sense of what was happening.

"That said, if you need a drink to get over it, we could go get one after work," Jim offered.

Sherlock looked at the computer and said, "I don't think that'll be necessary."  
  
Professor Ellis returned and seemed pleased they had both already started. They all worked relatively quietly together for a few hours until Ellis suggested ordering lunch. Jim agreed but Sherlock made up an excuse about needing to run a quick errand. He went outside and lit a cigarette before getting out his phone. 

_Do you know Jim Moriarty? SH_

John finished his tea and went to the store, taking his time about it so he wouldn't have to sit around and wait for Sherlock. He was just leaving for his mum's when his phone went off.

_I don't think so. That's who you're working with? -JW_

Sherlock took a long drag on his cigarette. John wouldn't lie, John wouldn't lie, he repeated in his head. All the weirdness must be about Jim, not John. Jim was the one who couldn't be trusted, not John. Sherlock could trust John, he reminded himself.

_Yes. We're working here with Ellis until around 5, I think. SH_

_I'm heading to my mum's now. I can make dinner if you want. -JW_

_Should I come to yours? SH_

_No, I'll make it at ours. -JW_

Sherlock took a deep breath and smiled to himself.

_I need to go back in. I'll see you around 5.30. At ours. SH_

John grinned. He started the car and headed to his mum's, taking the groceries in and asking his mum about tips on cooking a decent meal.

Sherlock returned to the lab. Ellis and Jim were still eating, but Sherlock got back on his computer to work. Ellis stayed in the room the rest of the afternoon, which Sherlock appreciated as Jim kept his mouth shut the whole time. At the end of the day, Ellis leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and looked over the work, patting him on the back to show his approval. Sherlock packed up and headed to the flat.

John was back at Baker Street in the kitchen, making the roasted chicken and potatoes his mum showed him. He kept checking his phone and glancing at the door for Sherlock.

Sherlock could hear movement in the flat as he unlocked the door, which at first alarmed him, until he remembered it was John and that it was good that John was there. He set his bag down and went into the kitchen to get some tea. He touched John's arm softly and then said, "It smells nice in here."

John leaned up and kissed him. "My mum gave me a lot of tips so I hope it's good. How was the rest of work?"

"I don't eat much, don't forget," Sherlock said, a little worried that John was going to so much trouble. "Work was fine. It'll be fine. After this week, I can do a lot of it from home so that's good." He sat down with his tea and watched John for a few minutes before standing up quickly. "Am I supposed to be helping you cook or something?" he asked.

John shook his head. "How was your coworker?"

Sherlock took a sip of tea. "Fine," he said. "I don't think I'll have to be around him much, so that's good."

John smiled and took the food out, looking at it closely. "I'm sorry you have to deal with him."

"I said it was fine," Sherlock said. "I mean, I just work better on my own and mostly that's what I'll be doing." He stood up and put his mug in the sink. He reached to get two plates and some silverware. "Was your day all right?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm just curious about your day, okay? If you don't want to talk about it just tell me that," John said. He served the food, keeping Sherlock's plate light as he brought them to the table. "I had a good day. My mum showed me how to make this and I came home and tried it. I think it looks pretty good."

"I'm sorry," Sherlock mumbled. He fiddled with his food and took a bite. "Is your mum doing okay? Has she heard from anymore from Harry?"

John shook his head. "I think I'm going to call Clara later this week and ask about what is going on. Just to check in on her."

"That's a good idea," Sherlock said. "What are you going to do tomorrow?"

John shrugged. "I don't really have a summer plan. Maybe I will get a part time job just to make some extra money," he said.

"Well, after this week, I'll be home more so you could spend time here with me," Sherlock said tentatively. "I mean, I'm not saying all you should do is wait around on me but . . . I would like you to be around, I guess is all I'm saying."  
  
John smiled and reached out to hold Sherlock's hand. "I appreciate that this is all new to you, but it seems like . . . well, I don't want to overwhelm you and crowd you," he said carefully. "If -- when I move in I'll be here constantly so maybe we should start slow. If I work part time, we can have a small break."

John was sitting right across from Sherlock when he said this. Of course, Sherlock heard every word. But somehow during the process of moving from his ears to his brain, the words changed slightly -- "I don't want to overwhelm you" turned into "I want someone else" and "when I move in" hadn't registered at all. Did this have something to do with Jim? Sherlock pulled his hand back and picked up his fork to fiddle with his food.

Wait, he told himself. Stop. All of this _is_ new. Being together all the time _could_ be overwhelming. John still wanted to move in. Sherlock tried to stay focused on what was actually happening -- not what could happen in the future or what did happen long before he met John. John was good. This was good. "Yeah, that makes sense," Sherlock said. "To be fair, even if I'm here, I will have to be working some of the time." He looked up and smiled a little.

There, Sherlock thought, he'd done it. He'd used logic over panic. Now if he could just do that every time it flared up, he'd be okay.

John looked at Sherlock's hand when he pulled it away, his stomach twisting with nerves and guilt. Why couldn't he say anything right? But then Sherlock was agreeing and smiling lightly and maybe it wasn't as bad as John thought. "Right. And I'll need money anyways."

"To buy me presents?" Sherlock asked. "You don't need to buy me presents, John." He laughed a little and smiled a genuine smile. "Dinner's nice, by the way. Thanks."

"For rent," John smiled. "And dinners and groceries and all of that. And maybe presents sometimes. If you're nice," he teased.

They talked for the rest of the meal, and Sherlock felt pretty confident that he'd handle his little panic all right. He even offered to do the washing up. After eating, they went out for a little walk to check out more of the area and bumped into Mrs Hudson on their way back. She invited them in for a cup of tea, giving Sherlock a little smile about having sorted the weekend fight.

Back in the flat, Sherlock realised that perhaps he had been a bit more anxious about the job than he'd thought as quite early his body started to drain of all energy. They got into bed and read for a little while before falling asleep together.


	21. What Does It Mean?

In the morning, Sherlock got ready before waking John. Once he was dressed, he went back into the bedroom and woke John with a kiss. "I'm heading off," he said. "The kettle's just gone if you want tea. I'll text you midday, okay?"  
  
John shifted and smiled up at Sherlock, agreeing before he turned and fell asleep again. When he woke up again he made himself lunch and opened his computer to look for part time jobs. He texted with Sherlock but he kept them light, focusing on himself rather than Sherlock's work. When Sherlock came home it, it wouldn't be odd to ask about his day and maybe he'd open up a little.

That night they ate leftovers and Sherlock talked about his research, keeping the discussion away from the other student. John followed his lead and didn't ask about him. He was curious about why Sherlock had an issue with the guy, of course, but tried to remind himself that before they'd met each other, Sherlock didn't really interact with anyone so maybe John was just seeing Sherlock at his usual.

As the week went by John spent some time back home, slowly packing and bringing some things to the flat. He had two interviews, one at a library and another as a receptionist at a doctor's office. He accepted the second one, eager to get a look at what he would be in for later, as well as priming his resume with recommendation letters from actual doctors.

On Friday morning, Professor Ellis told Sherlock and Jim they'd be finishing early as he wanted to take them out to lunch before he left on his travels. Jim and Sherlock hadn't really spoken much during the week, and when they did, Sherlock worked hard to keep it focused on their research. As they were packing up to leave, Jim said, "So you on your own this weekend then?"

Sherlock didn't respond. He just closed his laptop and slipped it into his bag.

"Sherlock," Jim said. His voice sounded a little softer. "Look, I'm sorry -- I feel like I've upset you and I didn't mean to. We're going to be working together all summer, we might as well be friends." He held out his hand.  
  
Sherlock didn't take it. Instead he said, "We only have to meet once a week. There's no need for us to be friends."

"Fine," Jim said. With just one word, it was clear that the softness was gone. "I just thought it'd be nice to make a new one." He slipped his bag over his shoulder. "Perhaps a tall, dark haired friend isn't what I need anyway. You don't happen to know any lighter, shorter chaps, do you? Maybe one going off to medical school soon? I like my friends clever."

Sherlock could feel everything in his body tense -- in fact he felt like the blood had stopped moving in his veins. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It was John, Sherlock knew it was John. A reminder that things were okay. "I'm sure you don't need my help," Sherlock said. Ellis returned to the room and they made their way to the pub.

Sherlock passed on a drink -- which drew yet another smirk from Jim -- and decided he would do nothing but focus on work talk. As soon as it changed to anything else, he would excuse himself and leave. Luckily the professor seemed happy to talk about the research he hoped to complete while away so Sherlock turned all his attention to that, blocking out the noise of the pub and Jim's presence. When it seemed like things were wrapping up, he wished Ellis well and stood up. "We can meet here next Friday at the same time," he said to Jim and then quickly left. He sent a text to John saying he was on his way and tried to get back to the flat as soon as he could.

Once he was home, he kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the sofa. "I'm glad the week's over. It's been a bit of a nightmare really," he said.

John brought Sherlock a mug of tea and sat down beside him with his own. "I'm assuming it's the student you're working with?"

Sherlock sat up quickly. He reached to take the tea. "No, I just mean, it's just been tiring -- the long days, I mean. I'm glad I don't have to work to someone else's schedule," he said before taking a sip of tea. "Thanks for this," he added, lifting his mug in acknowledgement.

"You're off the weekend at least, right?" John asked. "You can recuperate."

"Well, I'm kind of off permanently now," Sherlock said. "I mean, I don't necessarily have to be up and out of here at a certain time. I may need to go to the library or something for research and I've got to meet him next Friday at noon, but otherwise, I'm pretty much in charge of my schedule."

"That's really good! I only work three days a week so we can still see each other too."

"Good," Sherlock said. Suddenly he worried about John being out at work -- what if Jim found out where he was and started going around there? What if Jim had helped John get that job somehow? Sherlock tried to take a deep breath. "Let's go into the bedroom," he said.

"Okay. Are you hungry or anything?" he asked as he put his mug in the sink.

"No," Sherlock said. "I want to have sex."

"Oh," John said simply, following Sherlock into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

Sherlock stood by the bed and turned to look at John. "Do you want to?" he asked.

John nodded. "It just surprised me how suddenly, or rather casually, you said it," he smiled softly. He moved into the room properly and pulled off his shirt.

"I just . . . I just want to be close to you, to make you feel good," Sherlock said, stepping closer to John as he reached out to touch his chest.

John watched his hands for a moment before looking up at his face and nodding. "I want to make you feel good, Sherlock," he said.

"Why?" Sherlock asked, moving closer. He wrapped his arms around John and massaged the muscles of his back.

"The same reason you do," John said, his own hands working open the buttons of Sherlock's shirt and pushing it off of his chest. 

"Say it," Sherlock said, as he let John take off his shirt. "Please."

John licked his lips as he looked up at Sherlock again. "I love you," he said. 

Sherlock moved and kissed John hungrily on the lips. He started to step back, pulling him towards the bed. "Just hands," he mumbled as he started to undo John's trousers. "I want . . . to hurry."

John nodded, leaning up to kiss him as they fell onto the bed. John sat up and paused a moment so they could get off all of their clothes and then he was kissing Sherlock again, reaching down to touch him. In the back of his mind he hoped that Sherlock would say it soon as well. He hoped Sherlock felt the same.

Sherlock reached over to hold John's cock. "Tell me what you want," he said against John's neck. "I'll do whatever you want." 

"Like that is good," he said, stroking Sherlock firmly and steadily. 

"This is good, John, it feels good," Sherlock moaned. He stroked John firmly, pressing his mouth against John's collarbone. "Just you -- it's because of you."

John panted softly and focused on the movement of his hand, rubbing his thumb over the tip, pressing down to tease Sherlock as his hand moved over the shaft. 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. They belonged together -- they must, it wouldn't feel so good otherwise, right? He could sense changes in both of their bodies. "Don't stop but get on top of me," he said, pulling on John's arm with his other hand. He kept stroking John hard and fast. "I'm so close . . ."

John moved to get his body over Sherlock's, their hands and cocks bumping together as they both kept moving. "Me too," he moaned softly. Then he was coming, spilling over Sherlock's belly.

John's orgasm pushed Sherlock over the edge and he pulled himself hard and then he was coming as well. He lifted his head to try to catch John's mouth. 

John found his mouth a bit sloppily, still panting softly as they kissed.

"Thank you," Sherlock mumbled, burying his face in John's shoulder. "That . . . helped."

"Helped?" John asked as he settled next to Sherlock, reaching for the tissues on the bedside table to clean off his belly.

Sherlock sat up a little. "I just mean, I felt a bit wound up, I guess," Sherlock said. "I feel relaxed now. Good." He cleaned himself off and wished he had a glass of water sitting there. "I'm glad to be home with you." 

John smiled and kissed his cheek softly. "I see," he said.

"You probably need food. What do you want to do about it?" Sherlock said, fiddling absentmindedly with John's hair.

"Order something," he smiled.

"Excellent choice," Sherlock said. "Actually I'm going to have a shower -- wash the day off me, I think. Do you want to order while I shower? I'll eat whatever you're eating." He leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. 

"Okay. I'll nip out and get something," he said.

Sherlock moved into the shower and decided to put on clean pajamas afterwards instead of getting dressed again. John was home with the food a few minutes later. They ate together, talking about John's new job, then watched a little telly. When the show ended, Sherlock said, "Are we going to do something with your mum this weekend?"

"We can. I'll call her later and see. I know I don't live here yet but maybe she can come over for dinner?"

"We'll have to tidy up," Sherlock said. "I don't want her to think I live in a pig sty." He turned on the sofa and flopped his legs up, landing them a bit on John's. "I was wondering . . . why again don't I have a cup of tea in my hand?" he asked, smiling cheekily.

"Because I am being crushed to death by your legs," he teased.

"Baby," Sherlock said, shifting his legs and standing up. He stretched and then made a cup of tea for each of them. "I'm getting sleepy already. Have you been drugging me? I've never been so exhausted each night before I met you. Something strange is going on, I think." 

"Maybe the sex?" John smiled, taking his mug. When Sherlock sat down John put his legs in Sherlock.

"Sex isn't strange," Sherlock said, pushing John's legs a little but not hard enough to really move them. "Poisoning seems much more likely. Oh my god, please tell me your mum's not in on it as well? Were those burgers tampered with? Oh Susan, you seemed so trustworthy . . ." He started laughing stupidly at himself.

John grinned and laughed with him. "So you're saying all of this sex is just a natural occurrence for you?"

"No, I'm not saying that -- if you want to know the truth, before I met you, it'd been over a year since I was involved in any of that business. I said something strange was going on and you suggested it was sex and I was just clarifying sex isn't strange. I can see now this is a feeble attempt to distract me from the poisoning angle, which means I'm clearly on the right track," Sherlock said smiling. He pushed on John's leg a little. "Maybe it's just confusion that's exhausting me so much," he said softly. Then he sank down a little on the sofa to prove how tired he was.

"What confusion would that be?" he asked, sinking down a little bit himself.

"What?" Sherlock said. "Oh, I . . . I don't know. I just have never felt very clear about . . . feelings and all that stuff. And then you came along and . . . like I said, made everything different." He tried to make a smile, even though he was feeling a bit stupid about having sad anything.

"Oh. Well, I hope it's a good different," he said, sipping at his tea.

"It is, you idiot," Sherlock said, leaning over and pushing John's arm so his tea spilled a little.

"Hey," John whined. "I was just making sure," he said.

Sherlock leaned back against the sofa and looked over. "Don't you know? Don't you know, John?" he asked.

John looked over at him. "I know what I feel," he said.

"I know what I feel, John," Sherlock said. "I'm not confused about that. I just . . . sometimes get confused about what it means and how to make the feeling stay." He took a quick sip of tea which made him cough a little. "I don't what I'm saying, I guess . . ."  
  
John kept his wish for Sherlock to share those feelings with him to himself, listening as he spoke. "Well, you're doing just fine so don't worry so much," he said.

"Well, you just let me decide how much I need to worry," Sherlock said. He tried to say it lightly, but inside he did know that those panics were still a possibility. He didn't want John to worry, though. "Stop harassing me now, let's go to bed," he said, standing up and taking his mug to the sink. "We can hook up my laptop and watch a film in there if you're not ready to sleep," he called.

John stood and followed him. "No, that's okay. I'm a bit sleepy and I want to lie down and take advantage of that," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. He handed John a glass of water and carried one for himself into the bedroom. He took off his clothes except for his t-shirt and slipped a pair of pajama bottoms on. He lay down on top of the bed first, stretching and wiggling his toes, and then crawled under the covers.

John got down to his pants and climbed in, lying on his side for a second before turning onto his belly, with his head facing Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his head and looked at John. "Can I lie on top of you?" he asked. "Just for a minute?"

John grinned. "Yeah," he nodded.

Sherlock shifted and just lay flat on top of John. He lay still for a moment and then slid his hands up John's arms to his hands, holding them. He lay still for another moment, letting his body relax a little and then slid back to John's side. "Thanks," he said.

"And what did you learn?" he smiled.

"What it feels like to be you," Sherlock said.

John smiled. "Well, that sounds nice," he said.

"Well, it was okay -- a little lumpy," Sherlock said, smiling a little.

"I am not!" he laughed.

"Shhh," Sherlock said. "John . . . are you happy? Is happiness part of what it's like to be you?"

John thought about it for a moment. He was happy right now, but he knew Sherlock was asking more than just right now. "Yeah, I am," he decided. 

Sherlock reached over and touched John's cheek. "Thanks for being honest," he said.

John smiled. "Are you happy?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said honestly. "I'm not sure what it feels like. I feel so good when I'm with you, but I also feel . . . I don't know, confused and panicked sometimes as well. I don't know . . ."

John licked his lips lightly and grabbed his hand lightly. "Well, maybe I can help get you there," he smiled.

"Hmmm . . . what are you planning do to push me over the edge to happiness?" Sherlock asked, smiling cheekily.

"I need to figure it out. Something that won't be fleeting," he smiled.

Sherlock lifted his head a little. "Do you think the sex stuff . . . is that feeling fleeting for you?"

"No, I don't think so," he said. "That's part of the big picture."

"It's not fleeting for me, John," Sherlock said. "It means something."

"Me too," John nodded. "Everything with you does."

"But what . . . what does it mean?" Sherlock asked.

"The sex? Or the feeling of the permanence?"

"Is that what it means, permanence? Like forever?" Sherlock said. "Is that what you feel about me?"

"I think so. I know that's a hard thing to promise but . . . I hope so," he said.

"Are you saying . . . I'm yours?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Well, you're my boyfriend so . . . so yeah," he said softly. He smiled over at him.

Sherlock felt funny hearing it, even though he spent half of his time worrying John didn't feel that way. He curled up a little. "Let's stop talking about it now, okay?"  
  
John wasn't sure what Sherlock's reaction meant. He shifted and turned his head the other way, facing the wall.

"John, stop," Sherlock said. "Turn back. I've upset you . . . help me understand why." He reached out to touch his arm.

John swallowed hard and didn't turn back. "I don't understand your reaction," he said softly.

Sherlock reached over and touched John's back lightly. "All I want is to be yours forever," he said in barely a whisper. "But you might change your mind . . ."

John turned his head sharply. "You never even say you love me, Sherlock -- don't play games like this."

"I tell you all the time that I love you, John . . . maybe not with words but you don't know . . . you don't know how . . . how much of a risk . . ." Sherlock's voice trailed off. He reached up to touch John's face. "I'm sorry, John, I'm so afraid I'll wreck this. I just want to do whatever you want me to do so you'll never leave but at the same time. . . I know you still will and I just don't know what to think or do." He closed his eyes for a minute because he knew he wasn't making any sense.

"How can you know me and say that I am just going to up and leave?" he asked. "And I don't want you to walk on eggshells trying to keep me sated enough to stay. I want you to be you. I want to stay with you. I don't want to leave. . ." 

"But people leave, John -- you must know that. People leave, even people you think you know or love. People leave and I don't want you to. I want to make it so you'll never find someone else and then I realise for all I know, you could walk into you new job and meet someone you want to be with more…" Sherlock rolled a little bit away. "I wish I could do something to guarantee you will never leave but I know that one day you will find someone more like Greg or smarter . . . or older . . ."

John was fighting to urge to get up and leave the room right now, even though that'd be the worst thing to do to prove his point. "Look, I'm going to tell you right now that if you're constantly expecting me to run off, then you're going to push me away. I told you Greg is just my friend and I told you that I love you. I don't want anyone else. Even if I met someone smarter or older. I love _you_. I really wish you had more faith in me." John turned around again and faced the wall, his eyes burning as he squeezed them tightly. He knew Sherlock had a hard time with this stuff, but he was being mean and it wasn't fair.

Sherlock moved closer to John, spooning around him. He wrapped his arm around his chest, pulling their bodies close together. "I'm trying to find out what it's like to be you again. To have more faith than fear," Sherlock whispered. "I'm sorry, John." He swallowed and then pressed his head between John's shoulder blades. “I do love you, John Watson, and it makes me feel better than I ever have before. But it also scares me. I'm sorry." 

John brought his hand up and gripped Sherlock's hand, squeezing it tightly. "Sometimes I am scared too," he said quietly. "I've never loved anyone like this. I want . . . I just want to help make you feel better about it. I won't hurt you -- not if I can help it."  John repeated Sherlock's words in his head over and over -- _I do love you, John Watson_ \-- so he could engrave it onto his brain and never forget it. "I'm sorry I got so upset."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Someone has hurt me, John," he whispered. "But it wasn't you and I need to try harder to remember that." He put a kiss on John's back.

"I never want to," John said.

Sherlock squeezed John more tightly. "This is a better way to end disagreements," he said, snuggling against him. "I promise to keep trying, John. I want you to want to stay with me." He kissed John's back again. "Can we . . . will you have sex with me?"

John turned around in Sherlock's arms and met his gaze, leaning in to kiss his mouth softly. "Yeah, I will," he murmured. 

Sherlock kissed John back, squeezing him tightly. Then he slid his hand inside John's pajama bottoms to hold his cock. He looked at John and kissed him again.

John huffed out a soft breath before kissing Sherlock harder, licking into his mouth to deepen the kiss. 

Sherlock moved his hands to pull off John's pajamas and then did the same with his own. He pressed their hips together, feeling himself starting to get hard as he touched John's skin.

John moved to roll over Sherlock, rolling his hips into him as they got harder, kissing along his jaw and down to his neck. 

Sherlock looked up at John. He did love him. He'd known it but hadn't realised it meant so much for John to hear. He could give that to John -- it was a bit scary sometimes but it was true. "I love you," he mumbled, reaching down to hold their cocks together.

John looked up at his eyes and saw that he meant it. It wasn't something he was just saying to make John happy. He meant it.

Sherlock felt like he was melting as John kissed him. The urge started to grow. "Please," he mumbled and looked over at the bedside cabinet. "I want to feel you like that . . . inside."

John nodded, reaching for the drawer and the supplies inside. He slicked his fingers and then Sherlock, pushing two fingers into Sherlock gently. He wasn't as tight, and John knew they could move along more quickly now. 

"God," Sherlock called. It felt so good -- physically, of course, but it also felt like some strange kind of proof that John would never leave. It wasn't even a thought, not a logical one. It was a feeling and it eased Sherlock's fear. He reached down to touch John's shoulder before wrapping his fingers around his own cock and stroking slowly.

John pumped his fingers slowly, gently adding a third one. He used his free hand to slick his own cock, tearing open the condom again and rolling it onto himself. "I need you," John said.

Right now those words meant so much to Sherlock -- they felt like a promise. "Please," he moaned softly, his hand on his cock gripping a little tighter as it moved.

John pulled his fingers out slowly, lining up and pushing into him slowly.

"Yes," Sherlock moaned instinctively. He lifted his free hand to hold John's shoulder, pulling it closer as John began to rock his body. His other hand stroked his cock. He was already so close to coming. He wanted that moment when his brain turned completely off and there was nothing but John and him and pleasure.

John moved his hips quick and steady, sinking into him over and over. He was panting softly and leaning down, close over Sherlock.

Sherlock let his hips move with John's movement, creating friction against his belly. He lifted his head to John's and mumbled, "I'm going to come" against his lips before he did, spilling between them as all his muscles tightened and his body jerked. 

John moaned at the sight, pushing deep and letting go. 

"John," Sherlock moaned, wrapping his arms around him to pull him close. "I am yours . . . just please don't make me sad," he said. He was overwhelmed with almost every feeling he thought must exist. "I love you."

"I won't," he promised softly, holding him tightly. 

Sherlock lay still for a few minutes, feeling their bodies recovering together. "Let's sleep," he finally said.

John nodded, pulling out gently and tossing the condom before curling close to him.

Sherlock fell asleep almost immediately.


	22. John's Mother Visits

When he woke in the morning, Sherlock leaned over and kissed John. "Let's do something fun," he said once John had woken up. "What's fun?"

John smiled and thought for a moment. "We can go to a zoo or an aquarium or an art gallery."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "I don't care what we do. When are we seeing your mum?"

"Later for dinner. We can go out and be fun and pick her up on the way home."

"Sounds good," Sherlock said. He kissed John a few times and then dragged them both out of bed. After a cup of tea, they headed out and stopped in a few art galleries. It was a nice afternoon, though Sherlock struggled a bit to focus after a couple hours. They went back to the flat to change and get things ready. 

When they came home after the galleries John started preparing the food, stopping Sherlock as he headed to the door. "Will you watch the food? It need to be in the oven for a half hour still, and I am just going to get her and bring her here. I'll be back before it needs to come out." 

"I think I can handle it," Sherlock said. "I think I can handle. Actually, should we get Mrs Hudson to come up? I don't want to mess it up."

"No, no. Just call her if you need her," John said. And then he froze and bit his lip. "Should I have invited her over? Do you think she will be upset?" 

"Who will be upset? Your mum?" Sherlock asked.

"No! Mrs Hudson!" John said, glancing at the door. "If I ask her now, will she know it was last minute? I feel bad."

Sherlock walked over and grabbed John's hand. "Shh," he said. "Relax. I didn't mean ask Mrs Hudson up for dinner, I meant should she come up to watch the food. I was trying to make a joke. I think it'll be fine with the three of us, but if you've got enough food for four, we can also invite Mrs Hudson. Whatever you want . . . it'll be fine, I promise, you silly person you." He leaned over and gave John a small kiss on his forehead.

"We can't have her come up and watch the food and then send her home! There's enough so…so if she comes up then it has to be because we invited her. Should I? Now my mum is calling…" he said, fishing his phone out to tell her he was on his way.  

"John," Sherlock said once John had hung up. "Stop -- look at me. I was teasing. You were going on about the food like I was incapable of handling it. I was just teasing." He smiled and kissed him. "Do you need a quick handjob to relax a little?" he asked laughing a bit to try to calm John down.

"No!" he laughed. "Okay, okay. I just didn't want anyone feeling bad or left out. Maybe we can do a dinner for her later," he said as he headed for the door. "Okay, I will be right back." He kissed Sherlock and left the flat, quickly getting to his mum's house and honking for her to come out. He sped back, not wanting to leave Sherlock alone for too long. 

Sherlock kept an eye on the food and got himself ready. He tried to focus on his breathing so he could stay relaxed, though in all honesty, he was surprised how relaxed he actually was, but he didn't want to overthink it. He boiled the water for a pot of tea and then turned on the radio so some soft music was playing. He sat down in his chair to wait.

"So this is where you're going to live?" John's mum asked as they walked into the front door.

"Yup. Just up here," he said, leading the way upstairs. 

When Sherlock heard the door, he stood up and greeted John and Susan. He looked quickly at John's face, which seemed all right so hopefully nothing stressful had happened. "Welcome, Susan," he said, stepping out of the way so they could come in. 

John led her to the table and then checked the food while they all chatted, and Sherlock served the tea. He wanted to ask about Harry but he didn't, wanting his mum to have a good night. 

Sherlock tried to make normal conversations even though he knew that wasn't his strong point. He talked about the flat and Mrs Hudson and then told her a little bit about his job but implied he worked alone. He didn't say anything about Harry. He just wanted Susan to feel okay about the flat and about John being here.

John served the food and told her more about the part time he had. Halfway through dinner he realized they had forgotten desert but it was okay. When they finished eating, he showed her around and then brought tea to the sitting room.

"Do you want me to go get some cake or ice cream or something?" Sherlock asked the room.

"Oh no, Sherlock," Susan said. "I'm full up. The food was excellent, John. I'm very impressed." She smiled at him and then looked over at Sherlock. "Have you liked having him around the place?"  
  
Sherlock worried that she was subtly commenting on John's absence at her home, but she looked genuine with her question. "It's been good," Sherlock said. "He's obviously learned a lot from you in terms of looking after a home."

Susan smiled and sipped at her tea on the sofa with John while Sherlock sat in his chair. "Is that one yours?" she asked, pointing to the other chair.

John nodded. "I mean . . . well, yeah," he said.

She smiled. "That's really nice. You've done very well, John."

When his mum was ready to go home, John stood to take her. "Do you want to come?" he asked Sherlock.

"Sure," Sherlock said. He put the mugs in the sink and they headed out. They bumped into Mrs Hudson on the way downstairs and after introductions, they got into John's car.

John headed for the house, the three of them quiet now and looking out of the windows. When they arrived John felt his blood run cold. "Mum? Did you forget to shut the door?"

She looked up and shook her head. "No, I'm sure I did."

The door was wide open now with light spilling onto the step. John got out and grabbed the tire iron from the book, telling everyone to wait in the car. Susan wouldn't hear of it, following John towards the house. He could hear Sherlock as well, but he didn't tell anyone to go back.

He walked in quietly, the iron raised to strike. When they got into the house and through the sitting room, John heard something in the kitchen. Swallowing hard he moved that way, raising the iron a bit more before finally stepping in.

Harry giggled. "What are you doing?" she asked, a bottle of vodka in one hand and leftovers in the other. She had the fridge open, eating out of the bowl with her hand.

"Damn you, Harry," John said angrily, lowering the iron. John looked over at him mum who looked upset already.

"Don't swear, John. Mum's right there," Harry laughed.

"Harriet!" Susan snapped suddenly, making John jump lightly and making Harry's face go slack in confusion. It had been a long time since they had heard her use such a severe tone. "You are a mess and you are not getting any better. Get out. Now."

Harry blinked at her. John moved back a bit, closer to Sherlock.

"You've scared us all half to death. You've made a mess in my kitchen, a mess of your bedroom, I'm not putting up with this anymore. Get out until you decide to get yourself better."

"But . . . Clara dumped me again," she said. She had the audacity to take another swig of vodka.

"I don't care. Get out."

Harry slammed the fridge closed and stormed passed them, slamming the front door as well. John knew what was going through her head. Where would she go? Where would she sleep? He was worried himself, but he stood there quietly 

Susan cleared her throat and turned to them. "Thank you for a lovely evening," she smiled softly.

"Um . . . do you want me to go get her or anything?" John asked. He didn't know if he should stay the night or not.

"No. She's an adult and she has made her choice. We can't keep enabling her. You go on home," she said, smiling at him. She hugged him tightly, then squeezed Sherlock's arm. "I'm okay. Go on."

John nodded. "Call me if you need anything," he said, leading Sherlock back to the front door.

"Do you think your mum's really okay?" Sherlock asked once they were outside. He reached over and grabbed John's hand. "If you feel like you want to stay, I'll understand."

"I don't know. She's never done that before," John said. He paused at the car and looked back at the house. "I think she really is okay. I'm sure she is worried -- I'm worried -- but she finally did something about it, you know? I think it's okay."

"All right," Sherlock said as he got into the car. "But let's come take her to breakfast tomorrow. So she knows that you're being out of the house doesn't mean, you know, out of her life."

Sherlock sat quietly for most the ride home. This was yet another change John had brought: caring about family. He thought about his own -- he didn't activity dislike his parents, he just didn't feel much about them at all. His brother, though, he hated and nothing would ever change that. It was strange that he now seemed to care about Susan, and even feel a bit of sympathy for Harry, who not the long ago were complete strangers to Sherlock. 

"Okay," John nodded. "We will call her in the morning," he smiled. He squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Thank you," he said before they got out to head inside.

Sherlock smiled. He did the washing up as the kettle boiled and then they watched telly on the sofa for a bit until they decided to go to bed.

"Thank you for being so good about everything with Harry," John said as they moved into the bedroom. "I know I said it before, but I mean it."

"You're welcome, John," Sherlock said, changing into his pajamas. "I just wish . . . I know I can't help but I just wish you and your mum didn't have to deal with all that. I hope she can get help for all of your sakes." He crawled into bed.

"Maybe my mum shouting like that will push her," John said as he climbed into bed as well.

"Maybe," Sherlock said, snuggling close to John. "She was a bit intimidating. I hope Susan never feels the need to shout at me." He put a little kiss on John's neck.

John smiled. "She was pretty scary. She won't ever need to be with you."

"I hope not," Sherlock said. He made a little hum that turned into a yawn. "Is it okay if we just go to sleep?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," John nodded. "I'm really tired," he said.

"We can do it in the morning if you want," Sherlock said, getting comfortable enough to sleep.

"Do what?" he mumbled, half asleep already.

"Sex," Sherlock said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"We don't have to every day, Sherlock," John said. "Only when we both want to."

Sherlock thought about that. "All right," he said, closing his eyes to sleep.


	23. Morning

In the morning, Sherlock woke before John. He stared at him for a little while and then started to fuss with his hair and the earlobes, trying to see how lightly he could touch him before he woke.

John shifted but didn't wake, turning his head to the side as he slept on. 

"John, it's time to get up for work," Sherlock whispered. There was no movement. "John, the flat's on fire," he said just a tiny bit more loudly, but there was no reaction to that either. He put the tip of his finger in John's nose. Still nothing. Finally, he lay flat on his back and then rolled quickly to his side, flopping an arm and leg over John, which landed a little more roughly than he'd expected but which would surely achieve his goal.

"Hmm? Sherlock?" he asked softly, moving under his limbs to curl close to him. He was still a little sleepy and willing to keep resting if Sherlock wanted to. 

"Hmm . . . John, you woke me up," Sherlock said in a sleepy voice. Then he sat straight up and said, "Fine. I'm awake. Give me some attention, please."

John smiled softly. "You woke me up," he said. "And I believe you said something about morning sex . . ."

"Fine," Sherlock said, flopping back down and throwing his arms out. "Do whatever you want."

"Don't say it like that," John said, his tone changing a bit.

Sherlock looked over at him. "I just . . . I'm sorry," he stammered, not sure what exactly he'd done wrong.

"I only want to if you want to," John said, not touching him just yet.

"Of course, I want to," Sherlock said.

"Because you do or because you think I do?"

"Because I do," Sherlock said. Because he did. 

"Okay," John said softly, leaning down to kiss him. He stroked across his chest lightly.

Sherlock closed his eyes and concentrated on John's touch. Then he opened one. "Are you just doing stuff to me or am I supposed to be doing something to you?" he asked.

John smiled. "Let me take care of you," he said, tracing Sherlock's cock through the cotton of his pajamas before pulling them off and touching his skin.

Sherlock smiled and lay back, letting John touch him. "That feels good, John Watson," he said.

"Good," John smiled, stroking softly for now, just teasing as he felt Sherlock hardening in his hand. He wanted him desperate. 

Sherlock shifted his legs a little. He reached over and touched John, gripping his hip.

John traced his fingers over the tip, his grip getting a bit harder as he stroked. 

A small moan escaped from Sherlock's mouth. "John, let me do something . . . it doesn't seem right," he mumbled.

John shook his head, swiping his thumb over Sherlock's tip. "This is for you now . . ."

Sherlock clicked his tongue a little. It didn't seem right . . . he'd never really done anything like this. He took a few deep breaths and tried to just enjoy it. He moved his hand to grip John's arm. 

"You're very good to me, Sherlock. And I like making you feel good," John murmured. 

"I'm not," Sherlock mumbled stupidly. He turned his body a little as if he couldn't bear it anymore but he also said, "Please . . . don't stop."

John gripped harder now, smearing precome for lube so he could move his hand faster, pressing soft kisses to Sherlock's cheek and neck. 

"Fuck, John," Sherlock moaned, turning to try to kiss him. "It's morning . . . you're driving me insane."

John smiled and nipped at his skin softly. "You're so close . . . I feel it . . . let go . . ." he said, stroking even faster. 

Sherlock let his mouth drop open and squeezed shut eyes. His hips rocked with John's hand. His breath started to change and his entire body felt warm. "John, please . . . " he said, even though he didn't even know what he was trying to say. He gripped the sheet with both hands, but he lost all control of the rest of his body. His hips arched up now and he wasn't even sure he was breathing. Then he came, almost gasping for breath as he shouted out John's name. 

"That's perfect," Joan said as he stroked Sherlock through it. "So sexy . . ."

"Oh god, John," Sherlock said, rolling to his side and covering his face with his hands. "John, I . . . god," he said, not making any sense at all. He felt overwhelmed again, like he couldn't think at all.

"It's okay, love," John said, kissing his hands. "It's okay."

"John," Sherlock said, pulling him close. He buried his face into John's chest.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock. "I love you," he said.

"Promise?" Sherlock whispered.

"I promise," he said.

Sherlock looked up and gave John a smile. He took a deep breath. "I'm okay now," he said. He slid his hand to John's lower back, pulling him closer. "Are you still . . . excited?"

John nodded. "A bit, yeah," he said.

Sherlock slipped his hand round to John's front and palmed his hard cock. He slid down the bed, pulling John's pajama bottoms with him. He kissed his belly softly and then slipped his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking softly.

"God Sherlock," he moaned softly, lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock stroked John with his hand as he put kisses all over his abdomen and thighs. Then he sucked the tip back into his mouth, stroking the base as he did.

"Feels so good," John moaned, squirming against the bed.

Sherlock reached his other hand round John's body, gripping his arse tightly. He moaned softly, tasting the precome on John's cock. Then he took more of John's down his throat, sliding his hand between John's legs to hold his balls. 

"Sherlock," John called suddenly, coming hard into his mouth.

Sherlock stayed with John through his orgasm and then slid back up the bed to wrap his arms around him. "It's only ten o'clock and I'm already exhausted," he laughed softly.

John grinned. "We can nap again . . . just for a bit," he said. 

Sherlock let his eyes close and soon he was asleep again, pressed against John who was soon snoring softly.

When they woke up again, John called his mum and then the two of them took her out for lunch. When they got back to the flat, John started the laundry and Sherlock did a little research work. He knew tomorrow was John's first day at the doctor's office so he wanted to be able to get a head start on his own work, so that when John got back, he could focus on him. Then he realised, he wasn't sure if John would be coming to the flat tomorrow. He tried not to think about it, but he couldn't help it.

"You coming over after work tomorrow?" he finally asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Yeah, I will," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said, feeling a bit easier. "You nervous about work?"

"A little. Mostly excited. I hope I see something cool," he said.

"I hope you don't get stuck working with a prick like I do," Sherlock said, turning back to his notes.

"Is that a guy really that bad then?" John asked.

"What? No, he's fine," Sherlock said awkwardly. "I'm just kidding."

John knew that wasn't true, but decided not to press him. "Well. I'm the only assistant so I just hope the doctor is nice," John said.

"What?" Sherlock asked, looking up again.

"I'm the only assistant so as long as the doctor is nice it should be okay."

"Right," Sherlock said. He looked over at John. "Is the doctor a man or woman?"

"A man," John said, sitting on the sofa now that he was done with the laundry.

"Well, I know you'll be fine," Sherlock said. He went back to work for a little while and then they sorted something to eat for dinner. The flat was looking nice and before they went to bed, Sherlock set up his desk properly for work. "I'll get up with you in the morning," he said. "I'll do my work while you're gone -- a little bit of structure so I don't get lazy but won't have to work the whole time you're here."

John smiled. "That sounds good. Knowing that you're working will stop me from bothering you all day."

"John, you can bother me," Sherlock said, getting a glass of water to take into the bedroom. "I mean, you won't be bothering me if you want to text or call or something." He went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and then came out. "Bed?" he asked.

John nodded. "I will call you at lunch, okay?"

"Yes, that'll be good, so I know you're okay," Sherlock said, starting to change into his pajamas. "Not that you won't be okay -- you will be. You'll be good." He smiled as he crawled into bed. 

John smiled as he climbed into bed as well. "Do you think I'll see anything exciting?"

"My guess is you'll mostly see pieces of paper," Sherlock said. "Well, that's not fair really -- I've not been to see a doctor since I was about ten so I don't know, I honestly don't know what it'll be like."

"I'm sure you're right. People don't go to a GP for anything exciting," John said.

"You never know," Sherlock said, settling down flat and reaching over to fiddle with John's t-shirt sleeve. "Maybe you'll see something disgusting," he added.

"That's true. I'll tell you all about it if I do," he said, looking over at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked over at John and smiled. "Good night, John," he said, snuggling into him.


	24. Work

John was up for a long time thinking about work and when his alarm went off, he was still tired. But he dragged himself up and shook Sherlock lightly so we would wake up as well.

He took a quick shower before going into the kitchen to start the kettle and make some breakfast.

Sherlock didn't feel like getting up but then he remembered today was John's first day of work, so he got up and slipped his dressing gown around him. He went out to pour the tea. "You look very handsome and clever today," he said to John.

John smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I have to go now but I'll call you at lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I'll shower and get to work as well." He squeezed John's hand and then let him go.

John took the car into the office and was shown around before being seated at the desk. For the next few hours he took phone calls and made appointments and showed patients to rooms. He was bored, and he couldn't wait until lunch.

Sherlock showered and got to work at his desk. He accomplished a lot in the first few hours so rewarded himself with a short lie down on the sofa while the kettle boiled. He fell asleep before it turned off, but woke up not long after and made a cup of tea which he drank as he stared out the window into the street.

_Finally lunch time. I'm quite bored. -JW_

Sherlock heard his phone and smiled at John's message.

_You'll survive. What's the doctor like? SH_

_He's a bit annoying. He's really old and doesn't know how to do anything on the computer. -JW_

Sherlock was secretly pleased. He did not want John spending time with a clever older doctor. He didn't really want John spending time with anyone else, though he knew enough now to keep that to himself.

_When will you be home? SH_

_I only have about four more hours. How's your work going? -JW_

_Good. I'll be ready to stop when you get home. SH_

_See you then. -JW_

Sherlock went back to work and after a few hours was quite pleased with his progress. As he was finishing for the day, he received an email from Jim, reminding Sherlock he should be working. He couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not, so he simply wrote "I have been. I'll talk to you Friday," in the hopes that Jim would leave him alone until then. He didn't want to interact with Jim anymore than he had to, but he also didn't want to ignore him which might lead to Professor Ellis getting involved.

He moved into the kitchen and put the kettle on and then lay down on the sofa to wait for John to return.

John was glad to be done for the day, hurrying to get home again. He picked up dinner and pulled up to the flat. He texted his mum that he was home and that he'd call her in the morning again, as he headed up to the flat.

Sherlock sat up and smiled when John came through the door. He gave him a kiss and then moved to the kitchen to get out plates and silverware. "So how'd it go?" he asked as they sat down to eat.

"It was all right. I think now that I know what to expect it'll be better," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "It's good we both have jobs. It's like we're grown ups," he added, pulling a stupid face.

"It is like we are grown ups," John smiled. "I mean, medical school is the only thing separating me from that."

"I think there's probably a bit more that stands between me and being a proper adult," Sherlock said. He finished his food and then they washed the dishes themselves. There was some left over so he promised John he'd try to remember to eat tomorrow during the day, though he wasn't entirely sure he would.

"Don't worry, I will be back after work to check if you have," John said. 

Sherlock smiled. John had been staying here a lot, which Sherlock really liked. He wondered if Susan was all right about it and if John was all right about Susan. He decided not to say anything about it. They watched television for a bit and then headed off to bed.

The rest of the week passed pretty much the same. On the days John had work, Sherlock completed all his work while John was away. When John was off, he spent time in the flat, letting Sherlock work, or headed home and spent some time there, but he always came back, usually each time carrying a thing or two from his room.

On Thursday night, Sherlock realised his stomach was hurting a little and figured it must be because he had to see Jim tomorrow. He hadn't told John anything about Jim -- whenever John asked, Sherlock just changed the subject and he wasn't sure that was the best thing to do. But it's what he had been doing so it didn't feel right to mention it now. He decided to go to bed early, saying he might read for a bit.

John looked up from the telly as Sherlock spoke. He knew that Sherlock was nervous about meeting that boy he was working with. John didn't know him or anything about him, but he knew there must be something off about him to make Sherlock so uneasy. He decided to give Sherlock some time alone but silently made a note to go into the room in an hour in case he needed to talk or be distracted before going to sleep.

Sherlock read for a bit but it felt weird being in bed without John. The last night he'd slept on his own was the night of the fight at the party and that was horrible. This was John's bed too now, and even though it was a bit scary, it was good. Eventually he put his book down and called out, "John! I need you in here!"

John jumped and shut the telly off, stretching before going into the bedroom. "I was just giving you a bit of time before I came in. I can tell that you're nervous, you know," he said, smiling softly as he climbed into bed. 

"I'm not nervous," Sherlock said a little defensively. Then he glanced over at John. "Well, I'm . . . anxious -- which isn't the same as nervous, I feel compelled to point out."

"No, I suppose it's not," he said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's nothing . . ." Sherlock said. "It's probably just because it's a bit different, you know. Not like last week when the professor was there. I don't know if this guy will have done more work than me or not enough or what I should say or whatever." He slid down under the covers a bit, settling his head back onto the pillow.

"I wish I could help," John said, sliding down on the bed to lay down as well. "But all I can say is focus on the work and try to get out of there as soon as possible," he said. 

"That was my plan," Sherlock said, turning to face John. "Maybe you'd be willing to offer me some kind of reward, you know, as motivation? Like if I handle things tomorrow, you'll make it worth my while when I get home?" He tangled his legs with John's.

John grinned. "If you handle things well tomorrow I'll give you the best blow job you've ever had, right against the door," he said.

"You perv!" Sherlock laughed. Then he closed his eyes and thought about it. He opened them again and smiled. "Deal," he said as he reached over to turn out the lamp.

"I work tomorrow. What will I get if I do well?" he grinned.

"Um . . . how about if you do well at work tomorrow you get to give me the best job you've ever given, right against the door?" Sherlock offered, leaning over and fiddling with John's ear a bit.

"Hmm . . . this prize sounds a bit familiar," he teased.

"Take it or leave it, Watson," Sherlock said, laughing a little as he turned onto his side.

"Leave it," John laughed. "What do you have to say about that?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said, pulling on the blanket. "I'll just cry myself to sleep now." He pretended to cry quietly.

"You're still getting your reward!" John laughed, shaking Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock rolled over. "Wouldn't giving me one be good for you? I like giving them to you, a lot, but you don't have to do it, John. I'd never be angry."

"Of course I like giving them," he said. He sighed dramatically. "Fine. That can be my reward as well."

"Forget it, I'll come up with something else. How about whatever sex dream I have tonight, I'll do it to you tomorrow? If you do well at work, obviously, I mean," Sherlock suggested.

"And what if you don't have one? Or worse you dream something weird like . . . feeding me various fruit?" John grinned.

Sherlock looked over at John and smiled. "First off, I pretty much always dream about you. Secondly, I'm offended that you think I'd dream something weird. And lastly, now you've pretty much guaranteed I'll dream of feeding you various fruits since you've just mentioned it." He rolled over again. "So that's what we're going to do. Now quit bothering me so I can sleep." He started making a loud snoring sound.

John grinned and kept poking his side. "Dream about giving me a blow job against the door," he whispered.

"I'll try," Sherlock said. "Night, John."


	25. Jim

In the morning when Sherlock woke up, he didn't think about his dreams. He just focused on getting through this meeting with Jim. Maybe he'd just be normal and wouldn't mention John at all. Somehow Sherlock didn't think that would happen. He turned over and saw John sleeping next to him. John was so good. He curled around him for a few minutes before getting up to get shower and get dressed.

When John's alarm went off he could hear Sherlock in the shower so he stayed in bed until it was his turn to go in. He got ready quickly and came in for tea, putting bread into the toaster. "What time do you think you'll be back?" he asked.

"I can't imagine it'd be more than an hour or two," Sherlock said. "I doubt either of us really has that much to say to each other." His stomach felt funny again, but he tried to concentrate on the fact that it'd soon be over.

"Want to come by the office after and have lunch with me?"

"Well, technically I'm meeting him for lunch, so probably not. Just don't take lunch so you can come home earlier," Sherlock said, walking over to him and pinching his arm lightly.

John smiled. "I don't know if it works that way," he said. "But you could come anyway and not eat. I'll just eat." He pouted his lip a bit like he was begging.

"I'll text you when I'm done, okay?" Sherlock said. "The truth is I might need a couple hours this afternoon to work out the logistics of how I'm going to do to you when I dreamt of last night -- on first glance it doesn't seem physiologically possible, but with a little work, I might be able to rig something up to ensure that neither of us gets hurt." He pulled a silly face at John and started packing up his bag.

John laughed now as he followed Sherlock out of the flat. "Well, such important work can't be interrupted," he said. "Do you want a ride to your meeting?"

Sherlock did want a ride but he was more worried about Jim seeing John so he said, "No thanks, I'll walk. It's not far," he said, leaning over to give him a kiss goodbye. "Have a good time at work and I'll text you when I'm done, okay?"

"Okay. See you later," John said, climbing into the car and pulling off.

Sherlock tried to concentrate on his breathing as he walked to the pub, then he gave up on that and had a cigarette. Of course, Jim was already there even though Sherlock had decided to arrive a half hour early. And Jim had a pint sitting next to him. It seemed like everything with Jim was a strategy, a move in a game. Sherlock didn't like being forced into that kind of interaction -- though he was both familiar with and good at it, but he didn't like it. He nodded when Jim noticed him and went to the bar to get a soda before moving over to the table.

Jim leaned forward and for a moment, Sherlock thought he was going to greet him with a kiss. But he didn't. Instead he asked, "Are we going to order food?"

"I'm not hungry," Sherlock said. "But you can if you want." He started pulling his laptop out of his bag.

"Hold on," Jim said. "There's no rush -- I'll get us some chips so you can eat some if you want."  
  
Sherlock shook his head but Jim got up and placed the order. When he returned, Jim closed Sherlock's laptop. "Come on," he said. "Let's chat first."

"I'm not much of a chatter," Sherlock said, trying to open his computer.

Jim kept his hand on it. "Just wait," he said. "If there's food, you don't want it to get greasy or anything."

Sherlock shifted the laptop to an empty chair. He didn't need it to talk about work. He began explaining what he'd been finding in his research.

"And your boyfriend?" Jim asked.

"And my boyfriend what?" Sherlock asked back.

"And your boyfriend finds all this interesting? Is this what you talk about at night? Is this your plan for getting him to move in with you -- seducing him with talk of research questions and hypotheses?"

Sherlock stared down at the table. "You and I work together -- that's why I'm talking about work."

"Right, right," Jim said. "I forgot -- we're not friends. You've got enough of those already, right? Of course for you, one friend who's not really a friend anyway but pretty much just a sex buddy, that's all the friends Sherlock Holmes needs, right?"  
  
Sherlock looked up sharply. "What do you know about it? What do you know about me -- what I have or want? We don't even know each other . . . I don't really know what your problem is but we've got to do this work so let's keep things focused on that."

The server came over and set a plate of chips on the table. Sherlock stared at them. Jim smiled at the woman and picked up a chip to pop into his mouth. Once she'd left, he leaned closer to Sherlock and said, "You're wrong, Sherlock. I do know you. I know all about you. Just because you don't care about the students who surround you everyday doesn't mean everyone else feels the same. I know all your classes, all your grades. Do you think Professor Ellis would hire someone who didn't know how to research? I know where you live, I know where your parents live, I know about your brother --"  
  
"Fuck off," Sherlock interrupted, standing up and grabbing his stuff. He rushed out of the pub quickly, heading through the streets to a little green area where he dropped down next to a tree. He leaned back against the trunk and rubbed his face with his hands. He realised his heart was pounding and his breathing was off, so he tried to calm himself down. When he felt a little more under control, he looked around to make sure no one had noticed him and then made his way back home.

He made a cup of tea and then got onto his computer. He opened an email for Jim and wrote "The information you requested" and attached the summary of this week's work. He copied in Professor Ellis, hoping that would somehow make a difference if Jim were to reply. He closed up his laptop and lay down on the sofa. He went away from everything for a while and when he returned, he felt calmer. He sat up and grabbed his phone.

_Almost done. Do you still want to meet or should I just see you at home? SH_

John was getting ready to go to lunch when he saw Sherlock's text.  
  
_Whatever is easier for you. -JW_

_Will you be back by four? SH_

_Definitely. Maybe a little before that. -JW_

_I'll see you at home then. Will you be deserving that reward, do you think? SH_  
  
_Yes, I have been a very good little worker bee. What about you? -JW_

_I handled things. Come home soon. SH_

John couldn't tell if that was a good handle or a bad one, but he put his phone away and kept working so he could get home as quickly as possible. When his shift was finally over he got in the car but stopped at the bakery to get Sherlock a pastry. He arrived at the flat and hurried upstairs, calling for Sherlock.

Sherlock had changed his clothes and the bed sheets and had tidied up a bit. He had boiled the kettle a couple times, wanting it to be ready for John's arrival. He was in the bathroom when John came in, though, so he hurried out, clicked the kettle back on and greeted him.

"I brought you a pastry," he said, handing Sherlock the box and kissing his lips.

"That was kind," Sherlock said, grabbing at John's hips to pull him closer for a longer kiss. "You're very kind to me, John Watson."

"It's because I love you so much," he smiled. "How was your day?"

"All right," Sherlock said, turning away to pour the tea. "I don't know if we'll keep meeting -- we might just be able to exchange work by email." He turned back and handed John his mug. "Look, tonight, let's go see a film or something. Something normal. Or take Mrs Hudson out to dinner or go buy something for the flat . . I don't know, just something nice and normal."

"Okay," John said, not quite sure what was behind Sherlock's request. "Anything you want." He sipped at his tea and nudged Sherlock softly.

Sherlock carried his tea over to the sofa, encouraging John to follow. He asked a little more about John's day and then talked about the weekend. Then Sherlock felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. His first thought was Jim and his stomach hurt, but then he worried it might be the professor and he regretted copying him into that email. He pulled out his phone. It wasn't Jim. It wasn't Ellis. It was worse. It was his brother.

_I'm outside your door. MH_


	26. Mycroft

Sherlock sat up quickly, spilling his tea. "Fuck," he said. "Fuck." He set his mug down and turned to John. "John, I need you to go upstairs to your room, that room, just for a few minutes. Please. This is incredibly awkward and I hate myself for doing it, but please . . . my brother's here and trust me, you're better off not being around . . . at least not yet. Please." He stood up awkwardly.

When Sherlock started swearing and fumbling about, John worried and stood to try and help him. But then he was telling him to go hide and John paused, looking towards the door. "You've seen my whole family -- the bad parts," he said. "I want to stay with you . . . to help."

"John," Sherlock said, grabbing his arm. "Please . . . it's not the same -- please, he's here right now. I can explain more later . . . it's just, please." He looked desperately at John.

Sherlock looked terrified and it made John want to stay even more, but he only nodded and hurried up to the second bedroom. He closed the door but not all the way so he could listen.

Sherlock went downstairs and opened the front door. "What can I do for you?" he asked, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

Mycroft was on the phone. He held up a finger as he finished. When he hung up, he tried to look past Sherlock. "The flat? I'd like to see it," he said.

"Why?"

"I'm interested in my brother's life -- is that such a crime?"

"What do you really want?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft looked at him impatiently. "I'm going to see our parents this weekend -- Mother said you'd shared nothing with her about the flat so I said I'd take a few pictures to show her. If you weren't such a brat and kept in better touch, we would not be in this position."

Sherlock considered calling his mother to verify Mycroft's story, but that seemed ridiculous. "All right, make it quick," Sherlock said, stepping to let him in. They walked upstairs and he opened the door. "Here it is -- nice and tidy. The perfect flat for a brat."

Mycroft looked around skeptically. "Yes," he said vaguely. He didn't get out his phone to take any pictures. "And Mrs Hudson? She's a good landlady, she helps you?"  
  
"She's good," Sherlock said, moving towards the door. "But she doesn't help me -- I don't need help, Mycroft. I'm doing this on my own. I've got a job. I can pay her."

"And you're getting along with your co-worker? Mother said you had some issues with him . . . "  
  
"He's fine," Sherlock said quickly, wondering if John could hear. "Everything's fine -- please . . . just go."  
  
"And your flatmate?"  
  
"I don't have a flatmate," Sherlock said guiltily. "I mean . . . he's not moved in yet. His job's just started . . ."  
  
"And that all is . . . going well?" Mycroft asked, eyeing Sherlock closely.

God, this was humiliating, Sherlock thought, especially knowing that John was listening. "Everything is good," Sherlock said firmly. He coughed a little. "Thank you for checking in on me," he added.

Mycroft looked around once more and then left.

Sherlock took a deep breath as soon as he heard the door downstairs shut. "John?" he called.

John was so happy Sherlock amended his statement about not having a flatmate that he almost forgot to be annoyed with Sherlock's brother. He came down, looking around for him.

Sherlock moved to sit down, not entirely sure how to act. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes.

"John," Sherlock finally said. "I think I'd like to have a cigarette. I'll go sit by a window or something, but I'd . . . really like to have one." In truth, what he kind of wanted was a glass of wine. Just to take the edge off. But he didn't want to say that, he didn't want John to worry.

"Oh. All right," John said softly. He wished he could help with Sherlock's brother. He felt guilty because Sherlock has been so good about making him feel better about Harry. "I'm sorry I don't know what to say."

"Honestly, John," Sherlock said, touching his arm. "The less we speak about him, the better." He moved over to his bag and got out his cigarettes and lighter. "I love you," he added quickly. "Should I go in the bedroom or maybe open one of the windows in the room upstairs? Just tell me where I'd bother you the least -- normally I'd go out on the step, but I'd . . . rather not today."

"Anywhere is fine," John said.

Sherlock pushed one of the window as wide open as he could. He sat near the edge and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag and slowly exhaling. He felt a bit ashamed by it, by everything really, but he tried not to focus on that.

"Is there anything I can do?" John asked as he watched.

"Just -- don't stop . . . liking me," he mumbled. He felt even stupider really, but it's what he wanted to stay.

John nodded. "I won't stop," he said softly. How could he possibly stop liking Sherlock because of his brother? In all honesty, Sherlock's brother didn't seem nearly as bad as Harry, but then John felt guilty for thinking of her that way, so he sent a good thought out to her, wherever she was.

Sherlock went back to smoking his cigarette. He stared out the window at the street.


	27. Rewards

When Sherlock was finished, he turned to John and said, "Okay. What's the plan for tonight?"

John smiled. "I believe we both have rewards coming . . ."

Sherlock smiled. "Are you in the mood now?" he asked even though he himself was getting in the mood just thinking about it.

John smiled wider. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," he smiled.

"I need the bathroom first," Sherlock said. He used the toilet, cleaned his teeth and then splashed some water on his face. He came back out. "Can I see you in the bedroom for a minute, John?" he asked, stepping through the door and waiting.

John looked over at him and went to the bathroom first to brush and get ready before following him into the bedroom. "So formal," he teased.

Sherlock stepped closer, shutting the door behind John. Then he stepped even closer, pushing John back against the door. He kissed his mouth hard and slipped his hand to the fly of John's jeans, pressing against it lightly.

John gasped softly as he thrust out into Sherlock's hand. "I thought I was doing it first. . ." he stuttered.

"You're more worthy of a reward, I think," Sherlock said, kissing him again. "Do you want me to do it?"

John nodded.

Sherlock smiled and flipped open the button of John's trousers. He reached his hand in to hold John's cock and then lowered himself down John's body. Once he was on his knees, he freed John's cock completely and covered it with licks and kisses.

"God Sherlock, you're so sexy, " John moaned softly, gripping his hair.

Sherlock took John into his mouth now, swirling his tongue as the gripped him as the base. His own cock pressed uncomfortably in his trousers. He began bobbing his head, taking more of him down before pulling back and stroking as he caught his breath.

"Fucking hell," John breathed, moaning as he watched his cock disappearing into that lovely mouth.

Sherlock looked up as he pulled off John, stroking him with his hand. "Do you want to come this way?" he asked before swirling his tongue around John's tip.

John didn't know what else Sherlock had in mind, but he wanted to give Sherlock a blow job as well so he nodded.

Sherlock sucked him back into his mouth, stroking the rest of him with one hand. With his other hand, he squeezed John's leg. He tried to keep everything in a steady rhythm.

John closed his eyes and focused on the warm wetness of Sherlock's mouth. Seconds later he came, shivering against the door.

Sherlock swallowed John down, letting John catch his breath as he put a few kisses on his thigh before lifting himself up and giving him a kiss on the mouth.

John kissed him back, turning them and pinning him to the door, kissing down his neck.

"I'm desperate, John," Sherlock moaned softly, pressing his hands behind him against the door.

John dropped to his knees and opened Sherlock's trousers, pulling out his cock and sucking the head inside his mouth.

"John," Sherlock called out. He lifted a hand to rest softly in John's hair. "God, it feels good."

John sucked in more, moving to take Sherlock into his throat, bobbing back and forth. 

"John, I'm sorry . . . I can't take much more . . ." Sherlock said, pressing his upper back against the door and bending his legs a little. He put both hands on the back of John's head and let his hips rock against John's movement. "Fuck," he called, coming almost immediately. His head banged against the door as it fell back.

John loved the feel of Sherlock's hands on him, moaning as he came into his mouth while he tried to swallow everything. 

"God, John," Sherlock gasped. "I've got to . . " he trailed off as he pushed himself up against the door and pulled his trousers up. "I've got to lie down for a minute -- my legs . . ." He stumbled over to the bed and fell onto it. He looked over at John and started laughing. "You're a fucking maniac, John Watson," he said.

"It was just a blow job," he smiled, moving over to lay beside him.

"Don't be so casual about it," Sherlock said, pulling him close. "I'm pretty sure you're going to bring about my premature death if we're doing stuff like that all the time." He rubbed his hand down John's side and gripped his leg. "I know you're fitter than me, but don't your legs hurt at all from that?"

"I feel weak a little bit," he smiled. "You were pretty fantastic."

"You were," Sherlock said stupidly, pushing on John's leg as he rolled flat on the bed. "I love you, John," he said quietly. "And I want you to live here all the time -- I mean, like properly." He went silent, waiting for John's reaction.

"Okay," he smiled, nudging Sherlock's shoulder.

"What about your mum?" Sherlock asked.

"I call her on my way to work everyday and she sounds good. We should have dinner with her again and make the move official," he said.

Sherlock turned and looked at John. "Really?" he asked.

John smiled wider. "Really."

Sherlock rolled onto his back and starred at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes. He took a deep breath. "John," he said. "I think I'm happy."

John grinned proudly. "Good. I am too."

"Do we still have to go out tonight?" Sherlock said. "I know I suggested it but could we stay in instead?"

"Yeah, we can stay in instead. Want me to get a movie going?"

"Will it make sure this feeling stays? I don't want it to go away, John. Not ever, but certainly not in the next five minutes," Sherlock said.

"I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't go away," John promised.


	28. Their Special Day

John spent the next few days working and moving his things in. He gave Mrs Hudson money for the rent, and his mum helped him move some more things into the flat. Neither of them had heard from Harry, but Clara texted John to tell him that she checked into a rehab facility. He hoped it lasted and that she got better.

All week Sherlock was working hard on his research project in the hopes of being able to take the weekend off to spend with John. He had helped John move a few things, but also wanted to give John time alone with his mother in case she was worried and had questions about John's moving in. The flat was feeling even more like a home, and Sherlock talked to John about a possible visit to his own parents' house so he could get a few things from his old bedroom.

Before bed on Thursday night, Sherlock checked his email. He hadn't heard anything from Jim and there was no way he was going to meet him again, but he didn't want to get in trouble with Professor Ellis. He glanced over at John who was on the sofa reading, and thought about asking his advice. But he was afraid John would just act like Jim was an annoyance, when Jim was so much more than that in Sherlock's mind. He would have to sort this out on his own. He closed up his laptop and said, "Ready for bed?"

"Yes," John nodded, closing his book and stretching.

"Do you work tomorrow?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, but I took a half day for the move in so I'll be home at noon, or a little after."

"Good," Sherlock said. "I wonder if tomorrow will feel different than last Friday, I mean, since tomorrow when you say home, it'll be officially home," he added as he moved into the bedroom to change his clothes.

John smiled and followed him into the bedroom. "Are you meeting your co-worker for lunch again?" he asked as he got ready.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to say -- he was afraid if he showed his anxiety, he'd have to talk about something he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it. He'd already made it clear that part of the job was regular meetings, so if he said no, John might get suspicious. He just didn't want anything to mess up tomorrow. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Though it might not be for long -- I'm sure I'll be back shortly after you." He got into bed and quickly turned out the light so John couldn't see his face.

"Well, that's good," John said. "If I get home before you I'll have lunch ready."

"John," Sherlock said, rolling over to look at him. "I'm not a baby, you know," he said.

"I know," John said defensively. "I'm allowed to worry about you being comfortable and happy."

"I know," Sherlock said, reaching over and stroking his arm. "I'm sorry -- I'm just not used to someone looking out for me unless they've got an ulterior motive. I know you don't. I'm sorry." He curled around John a little, snuggling against him. "I want you to be comfortable and happy, too."

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and kissed his head. "Sleep now so we can get to move in day," he murmured, closing his own eyes.

Sherlock made a little noise of contentment, snuggling even closer and closing his eyes for sleep.

John slept soundly, not feeling too upset when the alarm sounded in the morning. He got up and nudged Sherlock lightly before going into the bathroom to get ready.

Sherlock rolled over and tried to grab onto John as he left. "Today you'll live here properly," he called as John went out. He got up and checked his phone to see if Jim had been in contact. He hadn't. Sherlock still didn't know what to do. He got up and put the kettle on.

John grinned as he put toast on and sipped on the tea Sherlock made. "When I come home later, I will really be coming _home_." He leaned up and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "See you soon." He was happy to only be working a half shift. 

Sherlock got up and moved to his laptop. He attached a summary of this week's work and sent an email to Jim. He just couldn't face dealing with him today. He tidied up the flat, put clean sheets on the bed, and went down to tell Mrs Hudson about John's needing to be officially added to the lease. She gave him a sweet smile and said she'd bring it up later.

"Actually, we'll come down tomorrow," he said. "I think . . . I think we might be going out tonight or something." He didn't want anything interrupting their special day. He went back upstairs and then decided he wanted to get John a present. He headed out -- not quite sure what exactly he had in mind but hoping that he'd know it when he saw it.

John worked through his paperwork and organised everything as quickly as he could. There were only a few patients and more annoying phone calls than he would have liked, but then he was all done. He hurried home, calling out for Sherlock when he got in. When there was no answer, John assumed he was still meeting his coworker so he started the kettle and waited.

Sherlock wandered through the shopping precinct looking in each window, waiting for John's gift to call out to him. He felt almost stupidly giddy -- he knew things weren't really going to be all that different, John had been spending so much time at the flat anyway, but it felt different. It felt more . . . grown up, was the only one he could think of. It felt grown up and real.

John was just pouring himself a mug of tea when he heard someone knocking on the door. "It's open," he called out, assuming it was Mrs Hudson. He came around to the sitting room and paused, staring at the man in the door. "Um . . . can I help you?"

"Hello, John," the guy said casually. "Is Sherlock around?"

John set his mug down. "Sherlock is working. Who are you?"

"Sherlock's not working, John," the guy said. "I'm Jim. I was supposed to be meeting him for work, but he didn't show up. I don't really know what's going on -- do you?" He was smiling as he spoke.

John stared at him for a long moment. There was something off about him, something that made John feel like he would be delighted to know that John had no idea where Sherlock was. "Well, he prefers to work alone so maybe he will just send his half along later."

"Maybe," Jim said. "But it's just that . . . well, did he tell you what happened last week?"

John crossed his arms. "You'll have to be more specific," he said, trying not to give anything away. He wracked his brain for anything Sherlock might have said, but even though John knew something was up, Sherlock had never been specific.

Jim glanced down the stairs. "It's a bit . . . delicate. Could I come in for a moment? It won't take long, I just would feel better if you knew what was going on."

John knew this was a bad idea, but he couldn't help being curious. Why did Sherlock tell him he was working today if he wasn't? Where was he now? John stepped aside to indicate that Jim could come inside. He left the door open. "Well?"

Jim looked around the flat. "It's looking good in here," he said. "Sherlock was worried you'd take over once you moved in, but I personally think you've made it look a lot better." He walked into the sitting room and sat down in one of the chairs. "Here, sit down, I'm sorry -- I don't mean to be so dramatic, let me tell you what's been going on." He smiled as he waited for John to sit down.

When Sherlock noticed it was already noon, he headed back to the flat. He hadn't found the perfect gift, but he did pick up a nice bouquet of flowers at the market. Perhaps not the most original romantic gesture, but it was something. He unlocked the front door, stepping on to the post. Was John not home yet? It was all Mrs Hudson's so he left it on the table outside her door and walked up the stairs. He called John's name as he opened the door.

He saw John. He saw Jim. He dropped the flowers and rushed towards Jim, pulling him up from his chair. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he yelled into his face as he pushed him up against the wall.

"Sherlock," Jim said. His body responded to Sherlock's attack but his voice was strangely calm. "We were just worried about you," he said. "We just wanted to know what was going on."  
  
The word "we" coming out of Jim's mouth stung Sherlock. He pushed against Jim even harder, but he didn't say anything else to him. Instead, he turned to look at John. "What the fuck is going on, John?"

John looked over at the door when he heard Sherlock calling for him and then everything was happening much too fast. He stared at the both of them with wide eyes, flinching lightly when Sherlock rounded on him instead. "I--he came here looking for you," he said. He didn't mention that Sherlock was supposed to have been with him already, or the fact that he was wondering where Sherlock had gone instead, or the fact that he had lied. He wouldn't in front of Jim. Sherlock was so angry -- John had never seen him like this before, and he realised he felt a little afraid.

Sherlock wanted to cry. He wanted to run over to John, fall to his feet and beg him to please not do this to him. But he couldn't do that, he wouldn't do that. He turned and looked at Jim who was smiling. "Get out of my flat," he said, dropping his hand from Jim's chest and pushing him towards the door.

"It was lovely to see you again, John," Jim said. He adjusted his shirt and left.

Sherlock didn't move. He just stayed still, staring at the wall.

John shook his head. "I never -- Sherlock, I have never seen him before today. He just showed up here," he said desperately. He wanted to move forward and touch Sherlock, to comfort him, but he was afraid. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his face felt hot with shame even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "Why . . . why did you lie to me?" he asked softly, making himself ask. 

Sherlock kept still, hoping it would help slow down his brain. It wasn't working. There were a million things firing inside his head and he was having a hard time telling what was real and what was imagined, what involved John and what didn't. He squeezed shut his eyes tightly, but it didn't help clear his mind. And then he remembered that first day -- the first time Sherlock had met Jim. John had been there. John had come into the cafe and seen them together. Sherlock rubbed his hands to his face. Had John known Jim all along, were they playing some game with Sherlock? It didn't make sense . . . but he thought of his younger self and the things that had happened to that Sherlock. Those things hadn't made sense either, but they were true. He kept his face covered and said, "Are you lying to me, John? Has all of this . . . been about him?"

"What?" John asked, his voice quiet and hurt. "Sherlock . . . I don't know him. I don't . . ."

Sherlock was afraid to look at John -- afraid of what he might see. He didn't know what to think, he couldn't think. He saw the flowers on the floor. He stepped over to them and picked them up, moving to the kitchen and setting them on the table. He turned and filled a glass with water and put the flowers in it, despite the fact that some of the stems were broken. He took a deep breath, staring at the flowers. "Do you love me, John? I mean…" he swallowed awkwardly before continuing. "Is this . . . real -- us? Is it just me you love?"

John felt his eyes burning. After all of this -- everything they had done together -- how could Sherlock still doubt him? "You're the only one I love," he said.

Sherlock realised he'd stopped breathing. He exhaled. "I think I need to tell you some things, John," he said softly. "Will you come into the bedroom with me?" He still couldn't bring himself to look at John -- this time it was because he didn't want John to see him. "Please," he added, stepping towards the bedroom. He went inside and pulled the curtains closed so it was dark. He sat down on the chair and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs.


	29. Honesty

John swallowed hard and followed him into the room, sitting on the bed and facing him in the dark. He pulled his own knees up and waited patiently.

"I've not told you everything about my life, John," Sherlock said. "I've not lied -- it's just . . . I thought that maybe I could forget some things, that knowing you would mean those things didn't matter. But I was wrong . . . I think they've ruined me forever so I owe you an explanation." He paused for a moment. He was going to say it aloud -- he was going to tell another person the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. 

"I loved someone before you, John," he said softly. "It was long ago. I thought I loved him . . . no, I did. I did -- it felt real at the time. But he wasn't like you. He wasn't . . . kind like you. In fact, he was . . . cruel, I guess, but I didn't know any better. I didn't know how it was supposed to be. I just wanted him to love me back . . . that's all that mattered to me then. I was willing to . . . do anything to make sure he loved me back." He rubbed a hand over his face and took another deep breath. "He said he did and I guess, I was just stupid . . . he said he did even though he was still . . . unkind but I believed him. I was so desperate . . . all I wanted was for him to love me. But he didn't, John. He didn't. He wanted someone else and everything . . . the whole time he was with me, it was only to be closer to the person he really wanted. I was . . . nothing but a means to an end to him."

The tears John had been fighting in the sitting room spilled out for a different reason now. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"It was my brother he wanted," Sherlock said, looking up at John. "He's older, he's smarter . . . that's who he loved. Not me." He looked down again. "So it was hard for me . . . it is hard for me to not worry about us. Because what I feel for you . . . is a million times bigger than what I felt before. And at first it scared me and . . . sometimes it still does, but that's why I reacted like I did to your friend and . . . why I sometimes don't make sense -- being desperate to do whatever you want and then remembering where they got me last time . . . but I thought, since you've been staying here more, it's been better, hasn't it? I've been better -- I can catch the panic earlier and I thought I could make it stop . . . but today . . . with him. On our special day . . ." He swallowed again. "He's been saying things . . . he's upset me but I thought if I told you, you'd think I was being stupid or maybe you'd be interested in him. . . I don't know what I thought, I guess. So I lied. I told you everything was going okay and it wasn't. I lied. I'm sorry."

John swallowed hard. "I have to say I wish you had trusted me, but I understand now why you didn't. I should have been able to assure you more but . . . .but all I can do is promise that I have never met him before. He's awful and I plan on staying far away from him. If I had known . . .I would have asked you to stop working with him. I only care about you . . . about you being happy. You have to try to trust me, Sherlock. I love you . . . so much . . . it's only you." He paused and wiped his eyes hard.

"That's all I want, John," Sherlock said. "I don't know why you'd love me, but . .. I do love you. I know what I feel and even if you leave, I'll still love you. But I don't want you to leave me." He covered his face with his hands again and suddenly he was crying. He couldn't stop, sobbing loudly into his palms. "I'm so sorry I do things wrong . . . I just want us to be together properly, to never have to worry again."

John got up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back and knees, kissing the top of his head as he cried softly. "I don't want you to worry either. I will try my best not to make you worry but you . . . you have to try too . . . you have to trust me and let me in." He hated saying it, feeling like he was yelling at Sherlock, but everything had to be equal or they would fall apart. 

Sherlock gripped John's arm. "I'll try . . ." he said. "I will." He felt better just having John near.

"Just because you do different things doesn't make them wrong," John said softly. "Different is okay."

"I don't know what's okay, John," Sherlock said. "I don't know . . . "

"You've been doing so good. Just . . . keep being yourself, okay?"

Sherlock listened to the words John was saying. Is that what he really wanted Sherlock to do, just be himself? "I'll try," he said. "I'm . . . sorry about earlier. I'm not like that -- I'm not. It was just…everything came out at once. I should have told you. I'm sorry that happened on our special day."

"Why don't we lay down, yeah? Let's get on the bed for a little while," John said. "Don't feel bad because of the day. We can go to bed and get up in an hour and pretend we had a lie in. Our day hasn't even started yet," he said.

Sherlock held onto John's hand as they moved over to the bed. He lay down on it and immediately realised how exhausting that had all been. His body sank onto the bed as it began to relax and when John laid down next to him, he turned on his side and slid closer to him.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and lay still. He murmured softly about work, telling Sherlock about pointless things he'd done during the morning to get his mind off of what happened. He commented on how nice the flowers were and thanked him even though he never officially gave them to John. 

Sherlock listened to John's soft words as everything in his body and his brain started to slow back down to normal. He liked John holding him like this, he liked that sometimes John took care of him in a way that no one ever had. He felt John's heart as he rested his hand on John's chest. He closed his eyes and let the feeling of safety take him over.

When John ran out of things to say, he fell silent and just listened to Sherlock's soft breathing.

After a little while, Sherlock said, "John, before we start the day over completely, I need to ask your advice on something."  
  
"Sure," John nodded, shifting so he could meet Sherlock's eyes.

"I can't lose this job . . . I need to be able to pay my part of the rent," Sherlock said. "Do you think I should email Ellis and explain that I'm still working but just . . . unable to work with Jim for, I don't know, personal reasons? It's just -- he's obviously clever and . . . plans things out. Maybe he's already been in touch with Ellis, I don't know, but . . . what do you think I should do?"

John thought about it for a long moment. "Do you think Ellis is the type to listen and be discreet? Maybe you could just let him know you're working together online?"

"I don't know . . ." Sherlock said, thinking of the way Jim sucked up to Ellis. "Last week, when I left early from our lunch, I forwarded them both my work. Ellis just sent a quick note saying he'd received it -- he didn't ask any questions about if we'd met or anything. I don't want to get specific but I probably can't lie, like say that I'm out of town because Jim could reveal I'm not. The job's doing the research -- I'm doing that. I'll even respond to work-based emails but I can't . . . see him again."

John nodded. "You can work from home. Ellis can't force you to see anyone you don't want to. Just keep emailing your reports and only meet if all three of you are there."

Sherlock moved closer, squeezing around John. "I love you," he said softly.

"I love you, too," he murmured, rubbing Sherlock's back.

"Has our special day started again?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "Brand new," he said.

"I tried to get you a present," Sherlock said. "That's where I was before you came home, but all I got was the flowers and I guess they're ruined . . ."

"That's okay. Sherlock," he said softly. "Will you try to be honest with me from now on?" His own questions were forming now, but he was worried about causing more hurt.

"John, I know I wasn't entirely truthful, but . . . but I will be more honest," Sherlock said. "But . . . what about if it's something like bad, like I'm jealous for no reason? Isn't it better to keep that to myself?"

"No. Because that sort of thing eats you up and if I can stop it and assure you, then I will," he said.

Sherlock thought about that. "I'll try," he said. "If you have to tell me some truth . . . will you at least do it . . . you know, nicely?" he asked.

John nodded. "I'll try my best," he promised.

"And if I judge it to not be kind, I'm supposed to be honest about that?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. We have to be. About everything," he said.

"And what about if I need tea, like say now, am I supposed to be honest about that?" Sherlock said, smiling for the first time since he'd come home.

John smiled softly. "I would have to honestly tell you that I don't feel like going," he teased, smiling wider.

"I already hate this," Sherlock said, pinching John's arm.

"I will make tea because now I want some," he agreed, moving to sit up.

Sherlock stretched and got up as well. Then they heard a knock at the door. Sherlock looked over at John sharply. They both stood still for a moment.


	30. Their Special Night

"Boys?" Mrs Hudson called through the door. Sherlock moved over and opened it.

"I'm not here about the lease," she said immediately as she stepped in. "I just have something for you." She glanced over and saw John in the kitchen. She smiled and waved a voucher. "It's for that new restaurant two streets over. A friend gave it to me but French food upsets my system. I thought . . . maybe you two could use it?"

Sherlock stepped forward. "Is that true? Are you sure that's where you got it?" he said, wondering if his brother was involved in any way.

"Of course, it's true," she said. "Free dinner for two. A bottle of wine and everything." She smiled, looking at Sherlock and then John.

"I don't think so," Sherlock said. He didn't want John to get upset, thinking Sherlock was only interested in drinking.

Mrs Hudson crinkled her brow at Sherlock and turned to John. "What do you think?" she asked.

John came over and looked at the coupon, smiling at Sherlock. "Yeah, this sounds really nice actually. Do you want to go tonight?"  
  
Sherlock looked over at John. "All right," he said. He looked over and smiled at Mrs Hudson, still wondering what precisely was going on. What did it matter? "Thank you, Mrs Hudson," he said.

"You're welcome," she said. "I'm glad you're both here," she added, looking over at John and winking. Then she noticed the flowers. "These are lovely, but . . ." She walked over. "They're a bit . . . wonky. Here, let me." She pulled the flowers out of the glass and then tidied them up a bit. She put them back on the table. "Looks good," she said. She looked around. "It all looks good, boys. Looks like a home."

"Thank you," John echoed, pouring tea for the both of them and pulling another mug out for Mrs Hudson.

"Oh no, none for me," Mrs Hudson said. "I don't want to interrupt your evening." She smiled and turned to leave.

John smiled and put the cup back, thanking her again before giving Sherlock his tea.

Sherlock moved to sit down on his chair. "That was nice of her," he said, lifting his mug to his mouth.

"It was," John agreed. "It looks fancy. I'll have to change my clothes."

"Please do," Sherlock said. "I don't want to be embarrassed by you." He laughed. "Actually, I'm going to take a shower," he added, standing up. "I want to wash . . . earlier off of me."

John stuck his tongue out before nodding. "Okay. I'll get ready after you."

Sherlock jumped into the shower and then wrapped a towel around himself. He headed into the bedroom, calling to let John know he'd finished in there. He opened his wardrobe and looked through his clothes, trying to choose something nice. He got dressed, fussed his hair a bit and then went back to his chair to wait for John.

When Sherlock called out he went to shower himself and then went to find his nicest outfit. He straightened himself out and went to find Sherlock. "You look nice. Are you ready?"

"You look really nice, John," Sherlock said. "I've never seen you all dressed up." He moved over to him and ran his hands up his back and he stepped in to kiss him. "Yeah, I'm ready," he said. "I hope this place is okay and not too . . . you know, full of rich idiots."

"It probably will be but we will ignore them and enjoy our celebration. I moved in today," he grinned.

"You did," Sherlock said. "And I'm glad."

They walked out and headed over to the restaurant. It was pretty busy, but they were seated pretty quickly. Sherlock set the voucher on the table, and the server picked it up when he brought over the menus. Sherlock looked over -- the food was quite expensive. "What do you think you'll get?" he asked John.

John bit his lip. "To be honest I have never had French before," he admitted, looking over all of the options. He didn't want the snails or anything that might move on his plate.

"I'm going to get this," Sherlock said, pointing to an item on John's menu. "You can have my leftovers for lunch tomorrow," he added smiling.

"I'm going to get the same thing to be safe," he said. He missed it when Sherlock pointed and figured he would just let him order first and then say he wanted the same thing. When the wine came he poured some for both of them. 

When the server left, Sherlock said, "John, we don't need to . . ." as he moved the glass of wine to the side.

John tilted his head before he realised what Sherlock meant. "Sherlock, it's okay," he said. "We can enjoy a glass or two and not overdo it. What my sister does -- that's not us. Our siblings . . . we aren't them. We're us," he said. 

Sherlock looked down at the table. "Okay," he said, He pulled the glass closer and then lifted it. "To our flat," he said.

John smiled and lifted his glass to Sherlock's. "To our flat," he repeated before taking a sip. 

Sherlock took a drink. "It's nice," he said. "Good old Mrs Hudson." He took another sip before setting the glass back down. He looked round. "It's all right here, I guess," he said.

John looked around as well and then back to Sherlock. "No one looks too awful," he smiled. "But the night is young."

"Are you planning on starting a fight with someone?" Sherlock asked, grinning stupidly. "That guy over there?" he tipped his head towards an old guy. "You could definitely take him."

"Let's wait until his food comes so we can take that home too," John laughed softly. 

"I wonder what tomorrow morning will be like," Sherlock said. "I guess now that you're officially no longer a guest, we should probably divide up chores. Like tea in the morning -- I think you'd probably be really good at that."

"Oh, you think so, huh?" John chuckled. "And what is your morning chore?"

"I mean, I've got to use the toilet and brush my teeth and all, so I don't think I'll also be able to handle getting the tea," he said.

John laughed a bit louder. "Well, we can take turns being responsible," he said.

"Boring," Sherlock said. He took a small sip of wine and looked up as the food arrived. "I hope you like it," he said to John. "I didn't think you'd be willing to try turtle."

John paused. "Is this really . . . ?" He looked down at his plate and bit his lip. He should have read the description when Sherlock pointed. 

"Of course not," Sherlock said. "I'm trying to make a joke. It's beef."

John sighed in relief. "Oh. Well, that's good. And funny." He smiled up at Sherlock before he started eating. 

"Obviously it wasn't," Sherlock said. "Jokes aren't my strong point, but I'm trying to win you over -- I'm worried now that we live together, you'll no longer be impressed by my brilliance so I thought maybe I should develop a sense of humour."

"Your brilliance always impresses me," John grinned. "Don't worry about that."

"What about my good looks? You sick of them yet?"

"No way. You're the total package!"

"Shut up," Sherlock said. He felt a face flush a little as he took a bite of food. "You are," he added quietly.

John smiled softly and reached out to squeeze Sherlock's hand before he started eating. The food was delicious and the wine paired so well with it that John went ahead and had a second glass, convincing Sherlock to join him. They could enjoy wine like this with dinner and be okay. Harry's problems were not his or Sherlock's. They talked about plans for the flat and ideas for the spare bedroom. When they were all finished with their meal, they had the rest of Sherlock's food boxed up and got up to leave.

Once they were out on the street, Sherlock pulled on John's arm, so their sides practically pressed against each other as they walked. He wasn't drunk -- just finally completely relaxed. What happened early seemed like years ago and all he could think about was this moment, walking with John home to their flat. He felt happy again.

They stopped at Mrs Hudson's door to thank her for the evening, before heading upstairs. Sherlock put the kettle on and stared at the flowers while he waited for it to boil. "It's been a long day," he said a bit mindlessly. "But a very good night."

"Tonight really was a good night. I'm really glad," John smiled. He leaned against the frame of the door, looking at the flowers as well for a moment before looking back at Sherlock. His questions were making their way through to the front of his mind again, and his stomach twisted at the thought of ruining this good night. But they had also promised to be honest with each other so we was going to have to suck it up and deal with it.

Sherlock moved over to John and slid his arms around his waist, dropping his head to give him a soft, slow kiss on the mouth. Then he said, "I can't wait to go to bed," before stepping back to pour the tea. He carried the mugs to the sitting room and sat down on the sofa. 

John looked over at him and knew that this was the time to ask. "Sherlock, can I ask you something?" 

"Of course," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes slightly, hoping this wasn't going to be something about what he'd confessed earlier now that he'd promised to tell the truth.

"Um, the guy you loved before -- did he hurt you? Um, I mean . . . physically?" John asked. 

"I don't know," Sherlock said because, at that moment, it was the truth. He thought about it for another moment and said, "Kind of."

"Is that why . . . I just wondered . . .is that why you only like doing things a certain way?" John asked softly.

"I don't know what you mean," Sherlock said. And then he did. He knew exactly what John meant. "It's just --- that's how it was . . . I thought that's how it was supposed to be . . . so he wouldn't leave."

"Oh," John said softly, "Sherlock, I won't leave. If you want to try something different or if there are things you'd rather not do at all, it's all okay. I promise."

"Do you want . . . that?" Sherlock said. Before John could answer, he added, "It's not that I . . . it's just . . . I've never done it."

John nodded. "I just want to try everything with you," he admitted. "I thought you didn't want me but now I feel like I understand more but we don't ever have to do anything if you don't want to . . ." He knew he was rambling, but he was also relieved they could talk about it.

"I could try it," Sherlock said. "I'm not against trying it . . . with you. I just don't want to hurt you."

That worried John and he bit his lip. "Have I been hurting you?" he asked softly. 

"No," Sherlock said firmly. He set his cup down and moved closer to John. "You've never hurt me," he said. He reached over for John's hand. "John, I'm sorry everything in my head is so . . . mixed up and . . . afraid. I thought everything was supposed to be one way because that's the only way I knew but this summer . . . it's never been that way. Nothing's been that way. You're kind and fun and even when I fuck up, you still love me and sex . . . I like it, I love it with you and it's always felt good because it's you and nothing has to be how it was because . . . it's you."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand and sighed softly in relief. "Okay," he murmured. "I love you, Sherlock." 

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said. He swallowed and then asked, "Should we go to bed?"

John nodded. "Just promise me you won't feel obligated. I don't want you to feel pressured or nervous . . ."

"I'm not nervous, John," Sherlock said. "Because I'm with you." He pulled on his hand, walking him into the bedroom. He moved over to his side of the bed and took off his clothes, sliding naked under the sheets. "It's just like last night and the night before," he said. "Except a bit different as well."

John nodded and took his own clothes off. "I'm a bit nervous," he admitted. They had agreed on honesty and that applied to him as well. He climbed into the bed and faced Sherlock. "But I'm okay. I guess it does feel a little different."

"Neither of us has to be nervous," Sherlock said. He rubbed John's arm softly and leaned into kiss him.

John kissed him back, letting himself get lost in the feel of his lips and the taste of his mouth.

Sherlock loved this -- loved kissing John like this, loved that John was in his life. He did want him to stay forever, and he knew how to make that happen now -- by not being so afraid and being honest about it when he was. He moved his arm to John's back and pressed against it lightly, pulling their bodies even closer.

John helped the movement, sliding his hand up around Sherlock's neck and tangling his fingers into his hair.

"You looked so handsome tonight," Sherlock mumbled in between kisses. He reached his hand around John's body to hold his cock, moaning softly at the feel of it in his hand. 

"You too," John murmured, arching into his hand. 

"Touch me, too," Sherlock said, starting to stroke John. "Please."

John nodded and reached down, stroking Sherlock in time.

Sherlock exhaled at John's touch. It was still a bit overwhelming, but he tried to stay with it, to savor it. He pressed forward, leaning onto John, pushing him back on the bed. He crawled on top of him, giving them both enough room to keep touching.

John let go of his cock long enough to slide his hands down Sherlock's sides and arse and legs, revelling in the feel of his warm skin and lean form. He came up to his cock again, stroking in time as he rubbed over the tip.

Sherlock let a loud moan escape from his mouth. He didn't even care how loud he was, it all just felt so good. He reached over to the drawer and got the lube and condoms. He sat up and back, pouring some lube into his hand. He stroked John's cock and then let his hand move down between his legs, rubbing everywhere. He glanced up at John's face. "Okay?" he whispered.

John nodded. The heat building between them made him confident. "Perfect," he murmured.

Sherlock's cock ached in anticipation -- he wondered what it'd feel like, if he'd like it. He slowly pressed a finger inside John, feeling the tight heat. His other hand moved to his own cock, stroking slowly. "God, John. . ." he moaned softly.

John moaned softly and tried to stay still, mostly to let Sherlock do what he needed to do. "It feels good," he encouraged.

Sherlock moved his hand from his cock to John's, stroking as he started to move his finger in and out of him. Then he reached for John's hand. "Touch yourself," he said. He looked down and watched as he slipped another finger inside John. He went back to his own cock, stroking slowly as he watched his other hand.

John moved his hand on his own cock slow and steady, his mind focused on what Sherlock was doing.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a few moments. It was all so . . . beautiful really. His body felt good, it felt so good he wondered if it would kill him. He opened his eyes and slowly pulled out his fingers. He reached for the condom and lube, slicking everything again. "John?" he asked in a whisper.

"Hmm?" John answered softly, raising his eyes to Sherlock.

"Can I put it inside?" Sherlock whispered.

John nodded.

Sherlock held the condom as he slowly pushed inside John. It felt . . . good, different but very good. He pushed a bit more and then looked up quickly. "Am I hurting you? I don't want to hurt you, John," he said.

John could feel Sherlock filling him slowly, but it was a good stretch,. "I'm okay," he said breathlessly, looking up at Sherlock. "You're okay. It feels good."

Sherlock leaned down over John and kissed his mouth softly. He felt an urge to move, so he let his hips start to roll gently against John. "It feels . . . different," he said breathlessly. "But it feels good. Does it feel good to you?"

John nodded. "Amazing," he moaned. He moved a bit with him, bringing his hands up to hold his face.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second. It felt so good -- he felt so connected to John, almost a part of him. It didn't feel like . . . anything he'd ever felt before. "I love you," he mumbled, kissing him again. He felt his body getting more tense and he began to move a little faster.

John kissed him back, just soft pecks on his lips between breaths. "I love you too," he whispered, his body moving more easily with Sherlock's. He reached down and started stroking himself again.

Sherlock felt John's hand moving between their bodies. His own hips thrust harder now and his breath was ragged. He looked down at John's face. "I'm going to come, John," he managed to say before he was coming -- pushing into John. It was such a different feeling, not better or worse, just different to anything he'd ever felt before and now he knew what it felt like, because of John.

John gasped and arched into Sherlock, letting go and coming between them, calling out Sherlock's name.

Sherlock stayed with John through his orgasm and then moved. He took off the condom and laid down next to him. His heart was still pounding fast and then he realised tears were spilling from his eyes. "Thank you, John," he said softly.

John stared up at the ceiling, reaching for Sherlock's hand. "Thank you," he said back, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "Are you okay?"

Sherlock looked at John's face. "You've given me so much, John . . . I never thought I'd be okay with someone -- properly okay. And now I am, because of you."

John smiled and turned to cuddle against him with a small sigh. "I love you."

"I love you," Sherlock said. "Not a panicked or paranoid love, John. A real one."

John smiled a bit wider. "I real love you too," he said.

Sherlock lay there for a bit, his arm wrapped around John. "Did you like that? I mean, did you like it that way?"

John nodded. He shifted and looked up at Sherlock. "It felt good. And I liked that you did that for me. Did you like it?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said. "It was different. Good. Special. It made me feel . . . connected, I guess. Is that how you feel . . . when you do it to me?"

John nodded. "I feel very close to you, more than just physically."

"Those other times? That's what you were feeling . . .?" Sherlock asked. He wished he had known, wished he hadn't been so stupid.

"There's so much trust . . . there should be trust to let someone do that . . . we've got to be about trust. I trust you, Sherlock, and I'll keep trusting you."

Sherlock thought about that. "I think . . . look, it's a bit humiliating to have to say aloud, but I guess, in the past, it wasn't . . . like that for me," Sherlock said. "It was more . . . about giving something away in exchange for . . . not having to worry for a day or two. It sounds so stupid now, I know, but . . . you've made everything different, John, and this is different now because of you. You've made everything better than it ever was."

"Well, now we're going to do things differently and it's going to be about both of us being happy, okay?" John kissed him softly and settled more comfortably. "Everything will be better now," he promised softly, his eyes drifting closed as he let the sleepiness in. They would be equals and happy. Harry was getting help and his mum was happy. He himself was happy. "I'm happy," he murmured sleepily, even more so at knowing he made Sherlock feel that way as well.

"I'm happy too, John," Sherlock said. "I know I said before I didn't know what happy really felt like, but now I feel like I do. It feels like this." He snuggled against John, in their bed, in their flat. 


End file.
